


Two Cups of Coffee and Complacency

by BackToSquareRootOfOne



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bottom Shane Madej, Demon Shane Madej, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fanart, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I actually did my homework for this, I just want them to be happy okay?, Idiots in Love, Insecure Shane Madej, M/M, Metaphorical and physical burns, Minor Original Character(s), Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Ryan Bergara, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Questioning Ryan Bergara, Ryan Bergara Being an Idiot, Shane Madej Being an Idiot, Shane Madej In Love, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, demon lore, they're both idiots okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 55,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24305950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackToSquareRootOfOne/pseuds/BackToSquareRootOfOne
Summary: Yet another take on the whole Shane being a demon thing, which is pretty much canon at this point. Add Shane being and idiot and in love with Ryan (also pretty canon) and Ryan being an idiot and totally oblivious. Add an encounter with another entity. Coffee dates and banter, too. Boom, another BFU fic.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 288
Kudos: 425





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I usually don't do RPF, but this whole demon!Shane is forever stuck in my brain and constitutes enough of a stretch of imagination for my consciousness to write this anyways. May they never, ever stumble across this. 
> 
> For the rest of you, welcome. I hope you enjoy suffering along with the bois ;)

Usually, Shane and Ryan restrict their solo-investigations on-site to a few minutes, in a mutual understanding of both viewer preferences and boundaries of Ryan’s sanity. Ryan appreciates that, he really does - although he would rather die than say it out loud. It is a fact universally known to viewers and everyone on set that Shane’s antics, his blasphemous speeches and aggregating demeanour, manage to distract him from the fact that there are entities just beyond the beams of their flashlights where he cannot see them – demons, ghosts, some unknown spirit that can probably not be named. He is ready to face them, but only with Shane by his side. But of course, Ryan would never admit that to anyone, least of all Shane himself.

(He may have dropped something like that on camera, but he still hates himself for that, and the internet has lost its shit, and he prefers not to ponder on what possessed him to utter something like ‘my daddy’. He doesn’t ponder it at all.)

…

This is why what’s currently forming in his mind unsettles him that much – it goes beyond their usual approach and methods; it feels almost sacrilegious. Like he is doubting some law of nature that must not be doubted. It is so very stupid. Bullshit.

Besides the fact that the idea itself is idiotic, Ryan knows full well he can’t pull it off on his own. Any of their investigations take a multitude of people weeks to plan out, research, narrate and travel and film and edit and spin into a coherent episode – and it encompasses their research team, and their writers, editors, and, of course, Shane. It is a sacrilege to investigate Shane the man himself. But not knowing is driving him insane.

***

Ryan feels utterly ridiculous with the camera pointing at his face and him staring back. Some part of him is acutely aware that he must look like a complete loon with how often he is talking to his camera all by himself lately – but it is not as if he could admit this weird idea to anyone. So he sits in his room, alone, and talks to a camera without sentience. He tries to gather his thoughts whilst staring into the lens, which stares back.

Admittedly, his suspicions are based on very little evidence, barely more than a gut-feeling and something he may or may not have seen. That has never stopped him before, Shane would probably say, but Shane isn’t here. It certainly isn’t enough evidence to weave a convincing tale from it for the show, but since the whole affair is just in his head and will turn out to be nonsense anyway, it doesn’t bother him too much. But there is something wrong with Shane. Has been ever since they returned from that cursed hellhole of a house about a week ago.

“So,” he begins, almost choking on his tongue. “So, it’s been about a week since we returned from the Hanssen house. And since then, uh, the big guy has been acting weird-“ Why the hell is he whispering? Maybe he is actually losing it. “I think something has latched on to him.”

There, it is out. Even to his own ears, he sounds like a complete nutjob. Ryan continues to stare for a few seconds, unsure of how to continue. If this actually got turned into an episode he should probably script - no, fuck this, this is idiotic, he won’t have to script anything. Shane is not possessed by a demon. Shane is not possessed by a _fucking_ demon.

***

It would make some semblance of sense, though, his mind helpfully supplies when he tries to fall asleep later that night. If it were about to happen anywhere, it would be the Hanssen house. Tragic backstory, a dead child, reports of poltergeist activity or even a demonic presence. His nerves had been on edge from when he’d first set foot in that hellhole.

No, none of that makes any semblance of sense. His mind is just all over the place and intent on not letting him get any sleep. It does a pretty thorough job.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, when Ryan sits at his desk at work, the thought finds him yet again. It is creeping up on him, sneaky and paranoid and absolutely insane. Shane is glued to the screen next to him, his left leg bobbing. He doesn’t sport any horns or tails, Ryan notices, and he looks as unassuming as a person ten feet tall could manage.

  
_Why in the hell would a demon want to possess Shane of all people? The most sceptic, outrageous – oh._

  
Only when Shane looks up at him and wiggles a suggestive eyebrow does Ryan realise he’s been staring. Shane winks at him, the audacity, and removes himself from his chair to head to the kitchen instead.

  
It cannot be true, Ryan thinks. He is chasing a ghost, no pun intended, of an idea and he damn well knows it. Also - if Shane had indeed been possessed by a demon – by now it would have… admittedly, his knowledge is a bit lacking here. Ripped his head off? Devoured his limbs? Would he have tricked him into making a contract, thus damning his soul to eternal damnation? He cannot remember having made any such contract in the last week, which is good.

…What would demon Shane do?

Probably not bring him a coffee and set it on his desk without another word. Ryan takes it with an appreciative nod and turns back towards his computer. Research on demons is absolutely relevant to their current case, so he might as well look into it now.

***

For the next few days, there isn’t too much time to ruminate about any potential clues that demon Shane might leave behind, because the whole team is set on getting the episode out there by Friday, 12 AM. It’s a special occasion and the midnight hour is kind of essential to that. Ryan is sleeping as little as usual, and Shane is his usual quirky self, and it is a calming thought that besides work… nothing much happens at all.

***

Somehow, presumably due to witchcraft being involved, they actually manage to complete the episode before their deadline, if only by about half an hour. As always, everyone is beyond exhausted, and probably making vows in their heads to commit to better time management next time, which they won’t. Usually, they all go haywire after that, frequenting a few bars and partying like there is no tomorrow – revelling in the fact that the non-existent tomorrow is a Saturday – but everyone seems so wiped out that they universally agree to just get a beer or two and let it be.

…

“Man,” Shane says to him when they cram into the taxi that is way too small for all of them. Luckily, personal space isn’t much of a priority at Buzzfeed. “You look like shit.”  
Ryan eyes him at that, his face turning into a frown. Shane’s eyes are visibly red even in the dim light, and the circles under them could have been Gucci.  
“Like you’re one to talk.”  
Shane makes an exaggerated gesture, grabbing at his chest like he’d been shot. “Ryan! I have feelings, too, you know?”  
Ryan flips him off, but he is too damn tired to fight the grin on his face, too.

***

Despite the odds, it turns out to be a nice night out, and Ryan finds himself actually enjoying the company. By this point, his colleagues have long become friends, and they are great guys – but by now, he really, really just wants to go home. His eyelids are dropping repeatedly and he only notices once his head is falling forwards.  
“We should get you home,” someone says, and he nods with his head on the table. The others are laughing, and he cannot understand how they can still muster the energy to do anything. Ah, yes. They did not stay up almost every night to inspect footage from the demon house to confirm an absurd theory they had pulled out of their arses.  
Archangel Shane orders an Uber, and helps haul Ryan up and towards it when it finally arrives. Steven whistles when Shane gets inside besides Ryan, who is a bit surprised himself but can only wave his middle finger in the general direction of the guys. To be perfectly honest, Shane looks like shit, too.

***

Just two beers should not have left him that drunk, Ryan thinks as he stumbles out of the car in front of his apartment. But then again, alcohol and exhaustion don’t mix well. Shane is beside him again after quickly talking to the driver, a conversation Ryan could not hear over the noise in his head, and then Shane is steadying him with hands that are too hot. The touch makes Ryan weirdly anxious, and he raises his eyebrows at Shane.  
“Do you, uh, need some help?” Shane raises an eyebrow back at him. The whole encounter is plain awkward.  
Instead of answering, Ryan takes a step away from him and immediately stumbles over his feet. It is a pathetic display, but thankfully Shane doesn’t comment on it and instead claps onto the roof of the car. As it takes off, Shane bends down to Ryan, wrapping his bizarrely long limbs around Ryan’s shoulder and under his arm – it is so unfair how easily he pulls him up and sets him back on his feet, but then again, the fans are pretty sure that Shane is actually Bigfoot and so is Ryan.  
“Let’s get you into bed, buddy,” Shane murmurs, and Ryan cannot possibly fight the smirk on his face.  
“I’d hoped it’d be more romantic than this,” he giggles. Shane grins back.  
“Hey, I’m literally sweeping you off of your feet.”  
“Consider me seduced.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There's some throwing up in this chapter. I'm not into it, I promise. If you aren't, either, you can just skip this chapter - you won't miss too much of the plot, I promise. Just me getting into writing these two bickering idiots. :)

When Ryan wakes up the next morning with all his organs still in place and his soul presumably not ravished, that is all the confirmation he needs. If Shane were indeed possessed, the last night would have been the perfect opportunity, but instead he had simply tucked Ryan into bed, forced copious amounts of water down his throat, and retreated to the couch. That whole demon thing is nonsense, simple as that.

Shane is decidedly not a morning person. He is barely a person when he shuffles towards the mugs of coffee Ryan placed on the counter, guided more by, it seems, an innate sense of coffee-geolocation than his eyes. Ryan offers him some milk, but Shane just pours a shitload of sugar into his coffee and retreats to the couch. Ryan puts the milk in his coffee instead, smiling to himself. He doesn’t usually have company in the morning, but it is nice. Even if his company looks a bit dishevelled and does not talk.

“You can watch TV if you want,” he announces as he carefully carries his full cup over to the couch and sits down. Shane doesn’t move or give any indication that he’s heard him, so Ryan grabs the remote and puts his legs up on the coffee table.

“Your couch is utter shit,” Shane finally groans. His voice is raspy, and it amuses Ryan to no end.

“Good morning to you, too.”

There’s nothing on, as usual, so Ryan finally settles on some bright cartoon that he vaguely remembers Shane liking. His brain is still a bit lagging.

Besides him, without warning, Shane is suddenly doubling over. It takes Ryan the second he needs to turn his head to recognise the choking sound – Shane is throwing up.

“Dude,” Ryan utters, thoroughly confused. “My couch.”

Shane does not react in any way, too preoccupied with getting the cup of coffee away from him and retching up some black liquid that looks almost like tar – Ryan watches him, too stunned to react or take protective measures for his couch. Something in the back of his head reminds him that black vomit is an emergency signal of a ruptured stomach, but he also manages to remember that coffee is black just as well. He hesitantly puts a hand on Shane’s back as the man leans forward, still making these god-awful choking noises.

“Shane?” Ryan strokes his back cautiously. He can feel the convulsions rattling Shane’s frame through his shirt. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

Shane makes the noise again, and again, but shakes his head. Ryan feels too helpless beside him.

When Shane finally stops his impersonation of someone choking to death, he slumps back with a low moan. One of his shaking hands manages to reach in the general direction of a bottle of water, and Ryan hands it to him. The guy looks absolutely drained.

“Dude. Like… what the hell was that?” Ryan asks. “Are you getting sick?”

Shane finally manages to retort something that Ryan cannot make out, so he repeats it. “You little shit!”

“The fuck? What did I do?”

“Who puts salt next to their coffee machine?”

It’s almost like a comic lightbulb turns on above Ryan’s head. _Oh_. “Well, I’m sorry you are too stupid to read the word ‘salt’ plastered onto the shaker-“

“I can barely open my eyes in the morning, Ryan! And it is very clearly a sugar shaker!”

Ryan huffs, admittedly relieved that he doesn’t have to drive Shane to a hospital or perform CPR. He gets up to retrieve something to clean up this mess. To hand to Shane to clean up the mess; after all, it was his.

His mind does a double-take when he retrieves some paper towels from next to the coffee machine. There was something about salt.

But everyone throws up from drinking saltwater, don’t they? Great.

“You know,” he begins, keeping his voice casual. “Some fans think you’re actually a demon.”

Shane snatches the paper towels from his outstretched hand and grins a smile that is so incredibly _Shane_ that Ryan cannot help but return it. “Probably because my ass is out of this world.”

Ryan gulps down a remark on the non-existence of said ass, and instead mumbles “You just threw up something with salt.”

“Ryan, everything has salt in it.” Shane starts to look both frustrated and annoyed and makes a vague gesture with the towels in his hand that adds nothing to the conversation. He turns his attention to cleaning. “Could you fetch me some water for this? Soap?”

Ryan complies. This is nowhere near how he had intended to approach that discussion. He had never planned to have it at all. Maybe if he had found some video evidence in the countless nights of pouring over the video material from the Hanssen house, but in return for his sleepless nights, he’d found… nothing. Which was just what this weird theory was. A whole lot of nothing.

Shane ends up removing the covers from the couch and bundles them into a giant ball. “Covering my tracks,” he offers when Ryan shoots him a confused glance. “I mean, I can drop these off by the dry cleaner?”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

It’s a bit awkward to watch Shane stumble around and gather his belongings, all the while wondering if he should offer another cup of coffee. Or some tea? Or just say… _hey man, I kinda want you to stay for a bit longer? 5 feet apart though, ‘cause you puked onto my couch?_ He ends up saying nothing at all.

When Shane is looming in the door frame, he hesitates. He ruffles his hair as he so often does when he’s nervous, and finally says, way too quickly, “You, uh, want to get something to eat later?”

Ryan blinks for a few moments. Of course, Shane and Ryan spend more time around each other than with anyone else, because the show takes a lot of time and dedication, and their respective circles of friends pretty much overlap – but they always hang out before or after work. And on Thursday night. This sounds much more like… just friends meeting up for the sake of each other’s company. It feels like some sort of commitment. He’s reading too much into it. “You just puked.”

“I mean later. I’d want to get home and get into some fresh clothes and, uh, drop the puke ball off. Take a shower. Powder the demonic horns sprouting from my forehead, you know?”

There are so many elements in that long string of words that Ryan wants to criticise. “The puke ball?” he repeats, wheezing, and his laugh manages to brush some tension from Shane’s features. “Never say that again. Ever.”

“What? Puke ball? The ball of puke?”

“You’re the worst. But, uh, sure. Lunch. You pay, though.” Shane opens his mouth to protest, a look of betrayal on his face, but Ryan interrupts him, “You kinda owe me for my couch.”

***

He only has time to process the comment on his horns when Shane has already left - of course, a sneaky response only comes to him an hour later. As ridiculous as his idea may have been in the first place, Ryan can’t help but feel relieved. He feels so much better without this suspicion of his hanging between them like a Damocles sword, ready to come crashing down and sever their friendship. He was certain Shane wouldn’t have made a big deal about it anyways (although he would have never heard the end of it), but still. This could have gone way worse. For one, Shane could have sprouted wings and devoured his soul right then and there.


	4. Poison in a Cup (Fanart no plot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just something small I drew, because everytime I drink coffee now I wonder what it'd taste like if I added salt. Big brain. Thank you guys so, so much for your support! ♥


	5. Chapter 5

Shane is a ray of sunshine when they meet up at the restaurant that afternoon, and Ryan finds himself smiling ever so often whilst shooting him glances over his menu. He likes Shane a lot, he really does. The whole demon thing had bothered him more than he cares to admit, and he likes being alive and not having his soul taken, too.

It's just a tad too chilly to sit outside during this time of the year, but they do anyways. Shane is layering on the clothes without any sense of colour or coherence as always, and Ryan makes do with one of the blankets the restaurant was kind enough to provide. There are few people outside, which Ryan very much appreciates – he still feels a bit hungover.

It only hits him now that he’s actually missed this, missed _Shane_ , despite being around him all week. He’s missed being free of this unspoken doubt, no matter how ridiculous it was – despite all, their friendship is something so unusually honest and open that even harbouring a secret as stupid as his had felt like a betrayal. Shane is blubbering on in front of him, without a care in the world, and Ryan finds himself weirdly at peace. He simply enjoys Shane’s company, is all. Yes, Shane is a ten feet tall, lanky goon without a social skill in sight, but deep down, Ryan muses, the guy is just… terribly kind.

He turns his attention back to the conversation when Shane asks him a question, and immediately wishes he hadn’t. _I take it all back_ , he thinks to himself. _I hate Shane Madej._

“If you don’t stop telling me about the Hot Daga I’ll put salt in your coffee again.”

Shane opens his mouth, an expression of betrayal on his face. “Ryan,” he protests, ”this is my magnum opus. People will look back at this and remember the great Shane Madej.”

“They will remember not to do crack,” Ryan retorts and watches the corners of Shane’s mouth curve upwards in a stubborn attempt to suppress a snicker. It is so satisfying that Ryan can make Shane laugh in return, and he secretly gleams with pride whenever it happens. Shane’s eyes fall on the salt and pepper shakers on the table then, thoughtful for a second. A look of determination crosses his face. He pilfers Ryan’s spoon from beside his coffee mug.

“I’ll tell you what,” he begins, inspecting both the spoon and the saltshaker. “I’ll put four spoons of this into your coffee-“

“Fuck you, no!”

Shane laughs, and says, “I’ll buy you another one. Food’s on me anyways.”

“No, you’re not gonna poison my coffee-“

“Oh, so when I can’t drink it I’m suddenly the spawn of Satan himself, but you may refuse because of your delicate taste buds?”

Ryan has an equally stupid response on his lips, but they are interrupted by the waitress, who looks more than a bit suspicious but says nothing. Ryan feels ridiculously embarrassed, his cheeks heating up, but Shane manages some witty comment that makes her laugh in surprise. They receive their food and a beautiful smile.

“I still don’t know how to properly interact with waiters,” Ryan mumbles as he watches her make her way inside. “I always thank them a million times and feel weird about it afterwards.”

Shane shrugs, inspecting his food. “I think they’re rather you be overly polite than a complete dick.”

“Yeah. But then again, I don’t know why I’m asking you for advice of all people. You are the most socially awkward person I know."

Shane shoots him a wide smile with a mouth full of food. “That’s what they call me.”

***

They stroll around the city after dinner, immersed in discussing the subject of their next episode. Shane is uncharacteristically set on this location he read about – almost as obsessed as he is with that dancing plague in France. Usually, he just goes along with whatever Ryan and the team dig up, so his determination piques Ryan’s interest.

“We only do one demon episode per season, Shane,” he reminds his friend. He’d rather have none at all.

“Which doesn’t make any difference because there was no demon at the last house,” Shane shoots back. “And there’s no spooky demon at the cathedral either but-“

“Is this because this cathedral is in France? Is this about the dancing people again?”

“That was a real thing and definitely interesting, but not the point here. Brace yourself, my friend.” Shane makes a great gesture with his ridiculously long arms that tells Ryan absolutely nothing. “UFOs”.

***

Shane is still sulking when they later call an Uber. Ryan certainly feels bad for shooting down Shane’s idea, extinguishing Shane’s rare enthusiasm like that, but there is simply no way they would be granted the funds for a trip like that. Management is constantly bickering with them anyways, and travelling across the ocean for some vague UFO-esque drawings on a church window simply wouldn’t get approved, ever.

“Hey, maybe we can still discuss this in an episode” he tries, patting Shane’s arm gently. Shane only shrugs.

“Yeah, maybe. Or the Buzzfeed unsolved world tour.”

***

When they get out at Ryan’s apartment, Shane seems to have cooled down a little, and is back to making horrible quips that make Ryan spill his coffee over his pants. He curses. It is not unusual for them to take an Uber together – Shane doesn’t live too far away, and he usually simply walks the remaining distance after seeing Ryan off.

 _It’s not much different this time_ , Ryan thinks as he stares at Shane. Except it _feels_ different. Shane is casually leaning against a nearby wall, waiting for Ryan to clean the coffee mess as best as he can. There is something in Shane’s eyes that Ryan cannot quite pin down. It’s almost as if Shane is searching for something on Ryan’s face, or asking him something that he cannot understand. Is he waiting to be invited in?

“I, uh. Thanks. For the food,” he says lamely. He’s fumbling with his keys and almost drops them – why the hell is he nervous? “I mean, for taking me out to dinner.”

Shane shrugs. “Hey, only the best for my babe”. His voice is just a tad off. After another second or two, he winks. “See you tomorrow.”

_Well, that was awkward_ , Ryan thinks to himself as he watches Shane trod away. But then again, what wasn’t with that guy.


	6. Chapter 6

New week, new project. Ryan unironically loves the initial phase of any new project of theirs; the pointless discussions, the debates, Shane’s entirely useless comments, Steven laughing at them, and everyone is just so insanely enthusiastic. This week, once again, the exchange of ideas is quickly turning into a war zone.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he screeches at Shane, who’s propped himself up against his desk in a vain attempt at looking intimidating. “Skywalker Ranch is one of the most paranormal places on earth-“

“Might be difficult to get permission to film there,” TJ interjects.

“Oh, come on, Ryan,” Shane groans, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “You cannot tell me you have hundreds of incidents with no single shred of evidence-“

“Still, the property is fenced off and we have no permission-“

“We – oh my God, _we_ ’ve had video equipment malfunction on our investigations! How can you be so sceptical about this? I thought you believed in aliens?”

“I do – but I refuse to believe in spṏǿky cursed water and – no. NO. SINGLE. Piece of video evidence - or even a photograph-“

“It’s closed off-“, TJ interjects again. No one is listening.

“That church in France, however,-“

***

Needless to say, they finally settle on neither the Skywalker Ranch nor the church in France. Ryan feels a bit disgruntled, because if they were to find definite proof of paranormal activity anywhere in the world, it would be on that Ranch – but TJ is right. It’s a given that they cannot film without permission, and the property has been sealed for about a year or two now. Definitely not suspicious, but there is nothing they can do about it.

Shane seems upset, too, but he probably just really wanted to go to France.

Then again, their new location has had its fair share of odd occurrences, too. No demons, which is a plus. He’s not a particular fan of poltergeist activity, it makes him uncomfortable in ways he cannot explain – like he’s witnessing something too private that had not been meant for his eyes.

Shane stops by his desk when Ryan gets his stuff together to leave, and looks oddly abashed. Ryan scoffs at him. “Dude, what’s with your face?”

“Why, you mean how beautiful I look today? Thank you.”

“Fuck you.”

Shane has the nerve to wink at him, and says “Why do you always insult me, Ryan? You’ll have to deal with your repressed feelings for me in a more productive way eventually.”

There’s a loud snort from the back of the office and Ryan just blinks, perplexed, for once too stunned to retort. If he’d let his composure go he’d probably end up straight up murdering Shane. It’s the carefully fenced off, Ricky Goldsworth portion of his brain.

***

It's a regular occurrence for Shane to drop by Ryan’s place once in a while – and every other Thursday, for movie night – simply because they usually share an Uber and Shane doesn’t live too far off. And it’s the polite thing to invite him in for a coffee when he’s already there anyway. There’s nothing more to it. But recently, Shane is over at Ryan’s almost every other day and Ryan feels it should bother him, this change in routine, but it doesn’t. Shane always brings ritualistic offerings of coffee, sweets, pizza or pies or root beer, and even offers to pay for their dinner once in a while – suspicious. He’s probably feeling guilty about the couch.

***

Just like every other day, Shane is lounging on Ryan’s bed with Ryan’s laptop, while Ryan pours over some files on his desk. Shane is editing Ryan’s voice-over for the next episode, brows creased in concentration whenever Ryan shoots him a glance. It’s almost domestic, Ryan thinks to himself. They are so comfortable working around each other in silence that he sometimes almost forgets that Shane is there – although the silence is only due to Ryan’s heart of gold. Shane’s shitty old brick of a laptop can usually only deal with the workload by screaming, which Shane usually only exacerbates by simultaneously opening a billion tabs and playing annoyingly loud ‘music’. How the guy ever gets anything done it beyond him.

By now Ryan should probably be used to hearing himself, but it’s still weird. Hearing snippets of words or sentences in his own voice from behind him, and hearing Shane snicker here and there, it feels like he’s somehow slipped and landed on another plane of reality. But whatever. If Shane wants to listen to Ryan’s theory voice all day, he won’t stop him.

…Shane is uncharacteristically docile tonight, too. It’s probably the aftereffects of the blow that was having to – very begrudgingly so – type out the WLAN key _ghost are real_ earlier. He would bet money that Shane’s changing the key at his place to _fuck you_ or something like that. 

“You still have the files from the Hanssen house?” Shane asks suddenly, giving him a weird look.

“Yeah. I, uh,” Ryan begins. It’s not like he’s gonna tell Shane he’d spent night after night dissecting their video material, on the search for evidence of demonic possession. He’s stopped doing that anyways. “Some laptops have actual storage space that you can store stuff on, you know?” Another beat of silence. “Wait, how did you get into my account?”

Shane grins that shit-eating grin of his and shrugs. “C’mon, _Boogara_? That’s the stupidest password ever.”

Ryan blushes, indignantly. Shane is right, but that’s beside the point. He’d been kind enough to give Shane his laptop in the first place and this is how his benevolence is rewarded.

“OooOH, I wonder what kind of porn dear Ryan has on here?” Shane warbles and Ryan jumps to his feet. This is taking things a bit too far.

“Fuck you!”

Some scuffling ensues, with both of them laughing, and Ryan swats at Shane’s head when he finally manages to regain possession of his belongings. Shane looks just infuriatingly smug.

Shane yawns loudly as Ryan sets the device aside. He only now realises that it’s almost 3 AM. The witching hour. “Dear God,” he mumbles to himself, and briefly wonders if he should offer Shane to stay the night, it’s halfway passed anyways – but when he turns to Shane to say something, Shane already has his eyes closed and coiled himself into the blanket. Ryan’s blanket. Ryan sighs, pressing at the bridge of his nose. He will not be cast out of his own bed, he decides, and goes to retrieve a blanket from his couch.

Shane, being the asshole that he is, is positively awake when he returns and crawls into his bed beside him. The look on his face is off, almost unsettling, but he doesn’t say anything. Ryan’s probably just imagining things. It is 3 AM after all.

“A’ight, g’night,” he mumbles as he wraps himself into his blanket and turns his back to Shane. He can already feel the sleep taking over his senses. “Please don’t eat my soul, demon.”

Shane huffs and Ryan cannot say whether he’s already dreaming when he hears Shane mumble a quiet “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

***

Restraint seems to be the modus operandi for Shane after that. Now that Ryan has slept a bit – only a bit, but hey – he can definitely see that there’s something bothering the tall guy. It’s in his eyes whenever he catches Shane staring at him, and in the way he sometimes hesitates at the beginning of whatever light-hearted sentence he’s about to utter. Something is off. The stupid jokes and winks are still there, but so is something else.


	7. Ryan and Shane

That Friday, Ryan is going out with a few of his friends. He loves being around Shane and the team, sure, but he still needs some time around people who have _normal_ problems; heartbreak, and stupid bosses, and money; instead of ghosts and demons and an incomprehensible ghoulfriend who’s acting weird. Oh, and might be a demon. Ryan wants to get drunk, and have a good time, which he proceeds to do.

***

He cannot even say how it happened, but suddenly this girl is beside him and she’s dancing with him, and she’s stunning. She sways a bit, if not as much as he does, and laughs and shouts over the music. He cannot make out what she says at all.

Honestly, he wants to kiss her. She doesn’t seem averse to the idea, and maybe he could even take her home, and seduce her, and make sweet love to her and he would have been content and happy with that – he isn’t looking for a relationship right now, but a one night stand once in a while is… nice. And she’s just so goddamn gorgeous, he thinks as she takes his arm and starts to drag him along with her, towards the exit. One of his friends gives them a questioning look, but he just winks at her. Maybe he would have done all of these things, but he’s too damn drunk. He’s gonna be sick.

***

Maybe he would have taken her, Liz, home, and they’d have had a nice night and he would have been content for it. Instead, they’re sitting outside of the bar, on the sidewalk, Ryan with his head on his knees and actively trying to refrain from being sick. He has no idea if he’s more sensitive to alcohol lately, or if he’s simply overdoing it, but it doesn’t matter. Liz is cautiously brushing his arm, and he’s grateful for it. She’s not listening to his apologies.

“Is there someone we can call to pick you up?” she asks, looking at him with so much warmth in her eyes that he’s undeserving of. He struggles for his phone for a while, and then ogles it when he finally has it in his fingers. He’s gonna be sick.

“I mean besides your friends inside. They seem pretty drunk.”

“Uh, yeah,” he mumbles. The whole world is spinning around him, and he hands her the phone and puts his head back on his knees. “Can you… can you please just call me an Uber?”

It takes him a moment to realise her voice next to him is not talking to him, but to someone on the phone.

“Hello, yes, this is Liz. I think your friend here needs some help getting home. I…” Ryan feels like an ice-cold wave is washing over him. He can distinctly make out Shane’s voice on the other end of the phone in Liz’ hand.

“Yes, he’s pretty wasted,” she says, and laughs, and Ryan wants to protest but his stomach won’t let him. She proceeds to give the address of the club they’re at, and when she’s done, she hands him back his phone, which he takes with a flustered look. It’s really nice of her to sit with him and take care of him, he suddenly realises, and he says so, which she dismisses with a wave of her hand.

“I must have misinterpreted something anyways,” she responds, looking a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“I- what?”

“He, uh, I called _babe heart emoji_ from your contacts?”

Ryan rubs his hands through his face. Shane had changed that ages ago. What a pain in the ass.

***

It takes roughly 20 minutes before a car stops in front of them and Shane emerges from it like a giraffe from a shoebox. For a split second, Ryan is positive Shane is glaring at them, at him specifically – a dark expression that he hasn’t ever seen on Shane’s face, and it’s beyond frightening – but it’s gone as soon as the streetlight hits his face.

“Couldn’t you two lovebirds have gotten an Uber by yourself?” he asks as he crouches down in front of Ryan. He looks dishevelled and worn out, but then again it is the middle of the night. Liz and Ryan open their mouth simultaneously to protest, but neither of them seems to know what to say. The whole thing is just damn awkward.

Shane eyes them for a minute, his face weary. Then he huffs, and smiles at Liz. “Thank you. For taking care of him, I mean. He’s a bit of a pain.”

Liz shrugs, but looks pleased with herself, and helps Shane get Ryan onto his feet. That had been an easier task about half an hour ago, Ryan notes and wishes once again for the sweet release of death. Liz is still waving when the car takes a turn at the end of the street.

Shane is eerily silent the whole way home. He helps Ryan out of the car, which is easier said than done, but his grip on Ryan’s arm is like steel. Borderline painful.

“What was that?” he finally asks, when Ryan is fumbling for his keys to the front door. His face is a bit sour, and it’s not a good look on him.

“’m sorry, Shane. I didn’t mean to – to be an inconvenience-“

“I don’t give a shit about that, Ryan. But-“ Shane trails off, rubbing a hand through his face. “It’s just that I, I don’t know-“ His voice quivers ever so slightly on the last syllable, and it all clicks into place in Ryan’s mind. Shane is _hurt_.

He’s completely dumbfounded at that. All he can do is stare at Shane, and he’s still staring when Shane bows down, slowly, and fucking _kisses_ him.

For a moment, Ryan’s mind completely flatlines. He can barely register what Shane is doing. Shane has pressed his eyes shut, although he is so literally in Ryan’s face that he cannot see sharp – He can feel his body going rigid – _He should probably close his eyes, shouldn’t he? He should_ –

Before his mind can decide on how to react, Shane pulls back. He opens his eyes, blinking slowly, and his expression just about breaks Ryan’s heart. Shane is searching his face, again, but as Ryan only blinks at him, Shane is deflating right in front of him.

“Dude,” Ryan finally mumbles, without any idea what to say. Shane takes a step back and sticks his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, looking sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry. I – I shouldn’t have – done that.” He clears his throat, his voice wavering. “I thought… I, it doesn’t matter.”

Ryan feels like his heart is literally cracking right down the middle. Shane looks so utterly miserable, and he doesn’t want to be the cause of that – it’s just…

“I’m sorry, Shane,” he hears himself say. He may as well have punched Shane in the face. “I -I mean I like you, I’ve just never, uh, thought about you in that way.”

Shane nods jerkily, but he still cannot bring himself to look at Ryan. One hand moves to fumble on the zipper of his jacket. “Yeah. I completely get that.”

 _No, you don’t_ , Ryan thinks. “I’m sorry, Shane.”

“Yeah, me too,” Shane shrugs, his face scrunching up like he’s in pain. He probably is. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be along.”

Ryan wants to stop him, to say something, anything, to comfort him, to save this catastrophe of a situation. But there’s nothing he could say to make this any easier for both of them, so he ends up saying nothing at all.

He watches Shane go, bowed strangely inwards, and he looks like a kicked dog. Ryan’s chest is hurting just seeing him like this, and he doesn’t even want to imagine what Shane must feel right now. He doubts that he can.

***

Silence falls between them over the next few days, but then again, it’s the weekend and under normal circumstances they don’t text each other every single day. But these aren’t normal circumstances, are they? Ryan finds himself in a continuous circle of picking up his phone to check up on Shane, not knowing what to say, putting it down and distracting himself until his thoughts wander back.

When had all of this started? Had Shane always fancied him? And – why? Okay, admittedly there was some chemistry between them, and they were incredibly close. They couldn’t have avoided each other if they tried, really. Their banter always bordering on flirty, yes, with the blunt transgression on Shane’s behalf once in a while – had he let Shane on? Had he given off false signals? It had just come so natural to mess around and be himself around Shane, who never judged him no matter how awkward he was – he rarely thought his actions or word through, and that was an issue. A different issue. Shane, who somehow always could elicit a laugh from him, even in the most terrifying of situations, and who just… made Ryan feel safe. In a way, he certainly does love Shane. Of course he does, how could he not. But then again, this was – he hasn’t even gone out or _been_ with another man in _that_ way… ever. 

The string of thoughts in his head has managed to form into a solid mess by evening, too tangled at this point to deal with. But it’s not like Ryan could just switch it off. And at the same time, no matter how incredibly ridiculous the thought is, he feels like he’s actually mourning. It’s stupid. It’s not like Shane has died or something – but their friendship will probably never be the same after last night, and that is a different kind of heartbreak that he simply cannot deal with. He doesn’t want Shane gone, as selfish as that is. This is a nightmare.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support and your kind words! It means more than you could possibly imagine! 
> 
> Stay safe, everyone! ♥
> 
> ***

On Monday, the weather is appropriately foreboding and grim, as it so seldomly is. Rain, strong winds, and clouds that hang low in the sky and brood. Ryan has never actually dreaded going to work – been anxious, sure, whenever they have to go to some haunted location or interact with fucking _demons_ – or unwilling, when he just wanted to get in another hour or two of sleep. But the dread that engulfs him now while he’s slowly shuffling through his morning routine manages to turn his stomach upside down. He misses Shane so fucking much, and at the same time, he cannot bear the thought of facing him. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. How to fix this.

Maybe a coffee from an actual coffee shop instead of the shitty coffee machine at the office counts as a piece offering. He picks up two cups at a tiny store close to work, without milk or sugar or salt. He doesn’t particularly like the watery brew they drink at their office, but Shane always drinks it down with his usual smiley face and doesn’t complain. Never complains about anything that matters.

***

Shane seems startled when Ryan puts down the cup on Shane’s desk, on top of a stack of papers. Ryan tries a smile despite being very aware of the fact that the tips of his ears are burning up. Shane’s only rattled for a second, though, and then grins so wide it threatens to split his face.

“Aw, you shouldn’t have,” he says, way too brightly. Ryan shoots an uncomfortable glance around the room, but no one seems to take any particular notice of them. “And they say flowers after sex, not coffee. But I do appreciate the gesture, mister.”

Shane grabs the drink anyways, ignores Ryan’s aghast expression, and turns his chair away in what is clearly a dismissal. Ryan can feel his face heating up, but he cannot do much about it except wander over to his desk and attempt to immerse himself in his work.

Throughout the day, Ryan notices how bizarrely casual Shane is behaving around him. For a brief moment, he even wonders whether he’s imagined the whole thing last Friday – not seriously, because he can still feel Shane’s lips on his, and the stubble against his skin. He's never kissed anyone with stubble. But Shane winks at him here and then, and makes stupid comments, and generally acts to unbothered and _normal_ that it completely throws Ryan off the curve.

***

They avoid their usual coffee dates, and editing sessions at Ryan’s place, and Shane continues to be as pliant and annoying and friendly as ever. It’s really too much for Ryan to take.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can absolutely skip this note, just some musings from my side.
> 
> I really cannot go to bed without adding this chapter - despite 'unsolved' literally being part of the title, I just cannot leave those two dorks hanging like that... so here you go. I hope you like it! :)  
> (And it's not like I could pretend I had other stuff to do with the 'rona and everything. These are some tough times, and I hope you're all doing well or as okay as possible.) But man, this story is my way of coping with all the stress - and I am pathetically unable to put into words just how much your comments and kind words mean to me! I'm new to this fandom, and everyone I came across is just so overwhelmingly positive and ...just nice. Thank you guys, thank you so much. It really means the world.
> 
> I hope you're all okay. Stay safe, XOXO
> 
> ***

“Shane, there’s a-“

Shane looks up from his phone, only to walk into a fence beside the sidewalk they’re strolling along.

“-fence.”

It is raining like hell today. Has been for a number of days now, and it both annoys and amazes Ryan. It drags his mood down, it makes filming an absolute nightmare, and he misses feeling the sunshine on his skin. Then again, it does feel oddly appropriate, theatrically dramatic. Another gust of wind almost manages to blow the umbrella out of Shane’s hand, who does not even bother to look inconvenienced and ushers Ryan towards the canopy of the nearest building instead.

They stand there in silence, Ryan watching the rain pour down almost mesmerized, and Shane glued to his phone once again. It’s almost peaceful.

“…Shane,” Ryan finally asks, his voice much shakier than he intended.

“Hm?”

“Can we talk?”

There is no immediate reaction. Shane stares at his phone for a few more moments, and finally sighs and tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans. He crosses his arms in front of him and leans back with an expectant look that Ryan cannot bear. He continues to stare out into the rain instead.

He does not know how to ask.

“What's bothering you, Ryan?” Shane finally says, but his voice doesn't even sound annoyed - just too tired.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Ryan begins, stuttering a bit. “Are you very… hurt?”

There’s silence behind him, and for so long that Ryan wonders if Shane hadn’t heard him. A gush of wind blows a bit of rain into his face, but he barely notices.

“Yes.” Shane finally says. There is no accusation in it, just a matter of fact.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.”

There is another silence, and Ryan wonders why they didn’t have this conversation about a week earlier. He pretends to wonder, at least. Back in his mind, he knows damn well what he’s afraid of.

“Do you – I can understand if you don’t want to see me for a while,” he chokes out, although his stomach clenches at the mere idea. “Don’t want to do Buzzfeed for a while. I mean, it must be – it must be hard to be around me after…”

Shane is silent, once again. Ryan finally finds the courage to glance over his shoulder and to actually _look_ at Shane. Shane’s expression is surprisingly soft. What a strange expression on the face of someone who is always smiling.

“It is,” he finally concedes. He looks smaller somehow, with his arms curled around him and that look on his face. But nowhere near as hurt or angry as Ryan had feared. He almost flinches when Shane uncurls himself and reaches for Ryan’s shoulder. There’s a spark of something that hasn’t been there a minute ago in his eyes, however small. “But hey, someone has to protect you from the ghouls and shit.”

“So you admit they’re real?” Ryan rasps back. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling at the moment, but it’s better than before. He also feels like he’s been wrapped in cotton.

Shane ignores the question, instead taking note of something behind Ryan. A smile spreads across his face. “The rain’s stopped.”

He brushes by Ryan to step out from under the canopy, and Ryan doesn’t know why he does it, he just knows he has to – he grabs Shane and wraps his arms around him as tight as he can. Shane freezes up under him. This is, without doubt, the weirdest hug he’s ever given someone, with his head pressed in between Shane’s shoulder blades and his arms almost squeezing the man to death. A random bystander may as well judge this an assault.

“Bro, your arms are stronger than you think they are,” Shane chokes out, and it does sound strangled. “I think I’m actually dying.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Ryan mumbles into the fabric of Shane’s jacket, but he’s smiling. This is hella awkward, but it feels so right. Shane looks over his shoulder, or at least tries to, but Ryan just buries his head in deeper. It’s not like he can ever face Shane after this. Maybe he’ll just hide his face like this forever.

After another few moments, Shane gently unwraps himself from Ryan’s embrace. His face looks surprisingly calm, and not at all embarrassed. He even has the nerve to pat Ryan’s head.

“Thank you, Ryan,” he says. His voice is steady and he looks much more collected than Ryan does, but it’s one of the few words Shane’s ever said to him without a wink in either voice or expression. It’s enough.

“But we really need to be more careful with these public displays of affection. What will the fans think?”

Ryan snorts loudly at that, and Shane looks immensely pleased with himself. He turns around, motioning for Ryan to follow him. For the first time in what feels like ages, Ryan thinks they’re going to be okay.


	10. Chapter 10

They have coffee and breakfast together before they head to their next location. Ryan is too anxious to eat much of what he orders, and Shane is mildly confused about why Ryan feels the need to educate him on the location in advance. He much prefers being surprised (besides the obligatory briefing), although few locations manage to do so. But this is important, Ryan says. This whole place is giving off a terrifying vibe, Ryan says. And it’s not as if Shane minded having breakfast, and Ryan’s breakfast for free at that. Ryan, for one, is just glad that Shane is around and actually listens to his worries.

Ryan hasn’t stopped talking even when they’re done with breakfast and get ready to depart. This house really is doing a number on the small guy. In the car, when he’s curled into the passenger seat, Ryan seems to be brooding over his thoughts, gone too far for Shane’s voice to reach him. Shane lets him smoulder on.

“What’s that?” Ryan says after a while and fishes out a white envelope from Shane’s pocket. _Had that been there the whole time?_ “Love letter?”  
“Yeah, I’ve been getting some fan mail lately,” Shane says light-heartedly, but snaps the letter from Ryan’s hand. Ryan doesn’t really care, he doesn’t care about much except for that haunted house at the moment, but this proves a convenient distraction.  
“Let me read it,” he grins, trying to retrieve it. Shane holds it from his grasp, and finally tosses it in the footwell, out of Ryan’s reach.  
“I can recite it to you: Beloved Shane. Your eyes shine like the Sun. Your smile… is like the Sun. Uh, Sun.”  
_Don’t stroke yourself too hard_ , Ryan thinks to himself, but just crosses his arms and turns his face away to hide his smile. _Poetic genius._

That damn house. Something is not right.

“You know, I can wrap my head around the concept of a poltergeist,” Ryan says suddenly, more than an hour after they passed the state border, and half an hour of silence.  
“What?”  
“I mean I can entertain the notion that excessive mental stress can manifest into physical activity is some cases, extraordinary cases. It makes sense to me.”  
“Uh, that’s very… creative of you,” Shane says, and starts digging around in the pockets of his jacket. Ryan eyes him nervously.  
“Don’t you agree?”  
“Of course not. Here.” Ryan stares at a granola bar that Shane has apparently produced out of nowhere. “I ate all of your breakfast. You should eat at least a little bit, buddy. Uh, gotta be strong to fight those ghȫsts.”

Ryan doesn’t comment but he takes the granola bar and starts munching on it. He doesn’t feel like eating, but Shane is right. He should probably have something in his stomach before facing… whatever. Still, his mind can’t sit still, and neither can he. “You know, that poltergeist stuff, that’s what irks me about this house. I mean besides the name and all the history and stuff.”  
Shane chuckles. “I actually think the name’s very funny. Bestie’s house?”  
Ryan frowns at him, looking seriously underwhelmed. “Dude, you took German for four years. It’s _Bestienhaus_. Didn’t you listen to me at all?”  
“Yeah, yeah, some mysterious beast and some lost souls, yadda yadda yadda. You’ll be just fine, Ryan,” Shane muses, and Ryan wishes he could believe that. Of course, he cannot.  
“No, I won’t. Something’s not right about that house, about the whole poltergeist story. If a poltergeist is a – a manifestation of mental anguish, okay, why would it stay there even after the family leaves? You have to admit that’s weird.”  
Shane raises an eyebrow at him. “Whoa there, buddy. Are you actually trying to approach this with logic?” He sounds bemused, and his smile is positively mischievous.  
“Look at the road.”

Shane complies, and pouts his lips as if he were actually contemplating Ryan’s question. It takes him a while to answer, but to be fair, it’s still very early. “If I believed in all of this paranormal stuff – which I’d like to emphasize I do not – I’d suggest that maybe, maybe some vulnerable folks kinda project their mental struggle onto the weirdest things? Like those people who’ve seen war and write about a burnt baby sock in the street instead?”  
“What?” Ryan furrows his brow and thinks for a moment. It takes a monumental effort with how little sleep he’s gotten the night before. “You’re saying that they associate a certain place with their anger?”  
“I’m not saying that, since ghosts aren’t real. But yeah.”  
“Like a… residual poltergeist?” Ryan repeats, but he does not look convinced. There is something not right with this house.

Shane only shrugs. He perks up when the object of their investigation finally comes into view. Ryan follows his glance, and is a bit taken aback with how unassuming it looks, almost welcoming even. But then again, the sun is shining so bright today that just about anything would look peaceful in it. It’s usually a completely different matter at night. The plants in the front yard are all dead.


	11. Chapter 11

The immersion of their show must have affected Ryan somewhere along the way, Ryan thinks as they make their way along a corridor that has too many angles and shadows in it. There are two sides to everyone who presents themselves in front of a camera, no matter how professional – but with Shane, those two personas are incredibly intertwined. Very unprofessional. There are differences, of course there are, but Shane is, or both versions of him are pretty awkward, and funny, and an ass, and not afraid of anything. There are probably many more sides to him that Ryan doesn’t know, just like everyone is just a tad different around different people. It’s normal. But with Shane, he feels so… immersed himself, so familiar – Shane makes it so, so easy to feel comfortable around him.

This was not where his thoughts were heading. Yes, usually Shane’s on- and off-screen persona are pretty interchangeable. Today is different though. In front of the camera, Shane still makes jokes and says stupid shit, but otherwise he’s so uncharacteristically… _silent_. It unnerves Ryan quite a bit.

In fact, Ryan had noticed almost as soon as they had entered. Shane had greeted the house with an enthusiastic ‘Hello there, polter–ghǒst’, but something had startled him mid-sentence. Ryan could for the life of him not discern the cause of Shane’s stutter, and Shane had just shrugged it off and moved on.

“Are you okay, Shane?”

Ryan’s eyes fall onto a kid’s chair on the floor. Of course they do. It had fallen over, and from the looks of it, no one had bothered to put it back up ever since. Dust over dust. Ryan decidedly hates everything that involves children, so this is like a field trip to hell.

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You seem kind of… spooked.”

Shane opens his mouth in indignation. “The great Shane Madej,” he sneers, “spooked? You _wish_!”

Ryan laughs, and at that moment he feels so warm that he almost tears up. He’s in a haunted location, surrounded by unknown horrors that want to do unspeakable things to him, and Shane makes him laugh. Thank god the lighting in this place is utter shit. Because at in that moment, it crosses his mind like an epiphany that he really does love Shane. Maybe not like Shane loves him, but damn, he loves Shane Madej.

***

Sleep won’t come for him tonight. Mostly due to the fact that this house is horrifically cold, and loud, and the even more unnerving fact that even Shane seems to be on edge. Nonetheless, the big guy has been asleep for hours now, and Ryan is wide awake.

…There’s also the relentless onslaught of thoughts that make his head spin. This is not the time and place to think about such things, but he can’t help it.

For one, Ryan is just incredibly relieved. The thought of losing Shane and whatever it was between them had almost paralysed his mind. It’s stupid, really, and so insignificant when compared with what Shane must be feeling. Ryan shoots a look over to the giant idiot, who has fallen asleep on his face. It will look like a pancake when morning comes.

He had probably led Shane on, and he feels horrible for it. It had just come so naturally to him, Ryan thinks. And in all fairness, Shane does 90% of the flirting.

For a moment, he just looks at Shane and wonders what it would be like if they actually were… _lovers_. The word seems so strange. It would probably entail an even more disproportionate amount of winking and philandering than their lives do now, just more… _Why is he even thinking about this_?

It’s not even the idea of having feelings for another man that intrigues him, it’s just… it is _Shane_ he’s thinking about! Shane, the giant goofball who is so awkward Ryan sometimes doubts he’s human at all, and who only deserves to be happy. Idiot.

Another crack somewhere in the room, close, much too close, and Ryan’s body sits upright in his sleeping bag before he even forms a conscious thought.

“Who’s there?” he sputters out whilst frantically scrambling for his camera. There is no answer.

“Calm down, buddy” Shane murmurs from his sleeping bag. “It’s an old house.”

“Did I – Did I wake you up?”

“Go to sleep, Ryan.”

Ryan wants to say that that is not an option, but he bites it down. He continues to observe the space around them, both with his eyes and the camera. The little light that enters through the window above their heads is just too dim; he can’t see shit. Shane is probably right.

After another minute or two, in which nothing happens or moves, Ryan puts the camera away and lies back down. His heart is still beating too fast and too sharp in his chest, like a caged bird. There will be no sleep tonight.

Also, he just cannot seem to get comfortable. He’s turning left and right, and left again– maybe he can sleep if he puts himself face-down like Shane did?

No. It’s no use. After a while of him shuffling around, Shane’s voice finally interrupts him. “What’s bothering you?” Shane props his head on one hand and looks at Ryan. At least his silhouette turns into Ryan’s general direction.

“I don’t know, man,” Ryan mumbles. “I’m just spooked. I’ve never seen you freaked out by any of the locations we’ve been at.”

“I’m not _freaked_ ,” Shane replies, obviously offended. “I ate a bad hotdog.”

Ryan snorts. There hasn’t been a hotdog in sight the whole day, but he knows Shane is trying to drag him down the hellhole of the Hot Daga.

”Is it… is it because you’re on-site with me?” _Because you’re so close to me_? He omits that last part, but it’s heavily implied.

Besides him, Shane’s silhouette sighs and rubs his face. “No, that’s not it, buddy.”

“Then what is it? Do you actually feel some presence here?” Excitement seeps into his voice, but Shane just groans.

“No. I’m just tired because you don’t let me fucking sleep.”

“Liar,” Ryan whispers and they both giggle like they’re some schoolgirls at a sleepover – if Ryan thought more about it that is pretty much their show, but he does not. “You know there is something here.”

“Yeah, Ryan. Hella lot of dust, and Halloween props, and an asshole who won’t let me sleep.”

“Fuck you, too.”

Another noise suddenly rips through the air, and it is really, really _loud_. Even Shane flinches next to him, and Ryan is a blabbering mess within a second. “Holy shit,” he whispers as he lunges towards his backpack and frantically pulls things from it that he can barely make out in the dark. “Holy shit, holy shit.”

Shane sits up with a low groan beside him, apparently abandoning the notion of sleep.

“How can you not freak out, Shane? You – you heard that, right?” Ryan whispers, but his voice is so damn high that it sounds too loud. There’s the flashlight.

“I heard that,” Shane sighs. “That could have been anything, Ryan. A table falling over. A bird hitting a window. Maybe Steven was hit by a car outside.”

Ryan is neither in the mood to be made fun of nor be appeased right now. He places a silver cross between their sleeping bags and the doorway and readies his water gun. He’s ready. Whatever is coming at them, he is prepared. Very shaky. But prepared.

“Damn, Ryan. You brought your toy gun?” Shane still sounds inappropriately amused, but the tiredness makes his voice crack. Ryan ignores him, eyes fixed on the open door that leads to the hallway – in theory. In reality, it opens to a pitch-black hole of darkness. Ryan’s too nervous to answer.

“Shall I go and take a look?” Shane finally offers, and Ryan is incredibly thankful for it, and incredibly determined not to let it show. When Shane gets up and retrieves his flashlight from the bundle of clothes next to his sleeping bag, Ryan grabs him by the hem of his pyjama, which earns him a startled look. He doesn’t know what to say, so instead, he presses the water gun into Shane's hands.

“Ryan,” Shane says with wide eyes. “That’s your only defence.”

“Dude, don’t say that – don’t remind me. I – I still got that cross.”

Shane stares at both, doubtfully so. His eyebrows move up his forehead.

“Why did you even bring all of this stuff? I thought we were dealing with a good old poltergeist here?”

Ryan doesn’t even have the nerve to taunt Shane for not explicitly stating that he does not believe in any of this. “I told you, something is not right here! And I – since the demon from the Sallie house pretended to be a ghost, I’m just, you know. More cautious.”

He expects Shane to make fun of him, but the guy just blinks sluggishly. “A’ight,” he finally says, saluting with the water gun. “I’ll head out onto the battlefield then.”

“Wha – I’m coming with you!” _I’m not gonna be alone in a haunted house. Forget it._

“How extraordinarily brave, young comrade,” Shane grins, and receives a pout in return. _It really is,_ Ryan thinks to himself. _Don’t mock me for it._

Shane turns around in the doorframe, looking grim. “You do understand I’m humouring you, right?” _Ah, there it is. What an ass._


	12. Chapter 12

Of course, there is nothing once they cautiously make their way along the corridor. Just darkness and silence. Shane must have taken some pity on Ryan’s strained nerves, because for once he does not make any comments or actively taunts the ghost-demon-whatever.

“We can add some quirky comments in the voice-over,” Shane remarks cheekily, as if he’d heard Ryan. _Had he actually said that aloud? That-_

“Yeah, you did. Your –“

There is a loud bang again, right against the window just a few inches away from Ryan, and Ryan fucking _loses it._

He is aware that he is shrieking like a scared little child, but at the moment that is all he is. He scrambles away from the window as fast and as far as he can, which is not much in the tiny corridor, and curls himself into as tiny a ball as he can manage. Shane is front of the window within the blink of an eye. From where Ryan can see, his gaze is uncharacteristically alert. He almost looks… scared.

“Ryan,” he finally shouts over the loud noise, and it takes Ryan a moment to realise that the sound is his own incoherent, hysterical shrieking. “Ryan, listen to me.”

Ryan shuts his mouth, but his brain is screaming on. He does not give a damn about how pathetic he must look, his heart is about to explode – Shane repeats his name, again, and again, and then clasps Ryan’s hands in his, looking at him with an intense stare that Ryan has never seen on his face before. There is something sobering about it, but the simple fact that Shane – _Shane_ of all people is taking this seriously is beyond terrifying. Only when Shane finally wriggles his eyebrows and nods towards their joined hands does Ryan register Shane has put something in his hand. The water gun.

“You need that more than I do, little guy,” Shane says, and his voice and eyes are so soft Ryan could cry. Maybe he is, he doesn’t know. “Well, you don’t need it, because ghosts aren’t real, but you know.” Ryan feels a tug at the corners of his mouth. It is a ridiculous gesture, really, but with Shane so close and the holy water gun in his hand, he almost feels like he can face this. Almost.

***

Forget that, the next knock sends him reeling again. This house is an absolute nightmare.

***

They end up walking the halls with Ryan as close to Shane as he can reconcile with his pride – fuck it, much closer than that – and the knocks just keep happening and holy shit, he didn’t know that this could become even more harrowing, the knocks start coming in _threes_. _Demon_.

Shane is so quiet by now that Ryan may as well walk these hallways alone. The silence is deafening, and he could almost swear that even their footsteps are gradually getting quieter – his mind is doing a number on him. Every single cell in his body is screaming at him to get out. Instead, he reaches for Shane’s hand, and Shane wraps his fingers around Ryan’s hand without comment. It’s an almost bruising grip, but it’s a lifeline, too. He may as well clasp his whole arm; he’s completely abandoned his pride at this point anyways.

They enter another room which is only filled with old furniture and the cursed children’s toys. Shane is observing the surroundings through his camera, a guarded look of concentration on his face, but he doesn’t seem to mind Ryan practically crushing his arm or the deafening silence that has been dragging on for minutes now.

When he finally says Ryan’s name, it startles him. “Do you want to leave this place?”

“Wha- why?”

Shane lowers the camera, furrowing his brows. “Let’s be honest here, buddy. This seems to be a bit much for you.”

“And for you it isn’t?” He hasn’t meant for his voice to go that high, but he is fucking scared out of his mind. Shane has the _audacity_ to grin. They both know there is some sneaky comment on his lips, but instead he turns his stupid grinning visage away from Ryan.

“How dare you laugh at this,” Ryan whispers, although he has to smile a bit himself. “At me.”

“I’m not laughing at you; I’m laughing with you-“

“Shane, this isn’t funny-“

Shane visibly refrains from spitting back whatever is on his tongue right now, and then his eyes suddenly dart to the side as if his attention got caught on something. It makes Ryan shriek and rush around Shane, behind him, the camera pointed in the vague direction that Shane’s eyes went to.

“Did you see something?” he rushes out, simultaneously trying to remember that he needs to breathe. His eyes dart through the darkness, but he cannot make out more than some vague shapes and figures. Fucking toys.

“…Let’s get you out of here, buddy. This is clearly a bit much for you.”

Ryan gulps when Shane takes him by the arm, but he does not budge. Shane is still smiling, but it seems awfully forced.

“…No.”

“What no?”

“We… we have to stay. There’s definitely something happening here.”

Shane grimaces at that, and grabs the bridge of his nose with a low sigh. Ryan is probably a fucking nightmare to be around right now, but so is whatever is with them right now – that is pretty much the premise of the show.

“Why are you so determined to stay here?” he finally asks. “We have enough material for an episode.”

“Why are you so intent on leaving? You of all people?” Ryan’s eyebrows raise in return, and Shane looks uncomfortable. “It almost seems as if the great Shane Madej is scared-“

“I’m not-“

“- and this is how we do our show. We go out there, and we put ourselves in harm’s way-“

“-imaginary harm-“

“Shane, what the fuck is happening? What is the matter with you?”

Shane shuts his mouth at that, and suddenly looks as if he’d bitten into a lemon. It’s a bit hard to make out in the little light they have, but the discomfort is plastered onto his face visibly enough.

“… I want us to leave.”

Ryan blinks a few times, taken aback. This cannot be Shane who’s talking right now. His voice is so low and so quiet, it may as well have been an EVP. In his head, he silently counts down their breaths one at a time, unsure of what to say.

“Are you, are you messing with me? Will this be like when you ‘had some bad hot dogs’?” he whispers, making air quotes with his fingers, and he only realises when his fingers show up in the beam of Shane’s flashlight that they tremble like leaves. Shane sees them, too, and only stares.

“Say it aloud that you’re scared,” Ryan says quietly. “Not for the camera. For me. Say that you’re scared and we leave immediately.” After another moment of silence, he adds, “…please.”

Shane looks as if he were in actual pain by now. There is something not right here, and there is something he isn’t saying. Since when had there been anything they could not say to each other?

“You’re too brave for your own good, Ry.”

Ryan wants to return something, almost reflexively, but there is a sudden animation to Shane’s face, as if surprised, and then Shane is thrust to the side, his body hitting the doorframe he had stood in front of just a second ago. Ryan is too perplexed to react really – it looked as if something had physically rammed into Shane and pushed him – what the - _what the_ – There are no discernible thoughts in his mind for the next few moments – _something had attacked Shane_ –

“DEMON!” he screeches, his mind going completely blank. “Shane, there’s a demon here-“

Shane looks more stunned than hurt from his impact with _whatever_ , but Ryan’s brain cannot deal with information right now, “There is a fucking -! Oh my god, oh my fucking god-“ He raises the water gun in front of him with shaking hands, and it feels so pathetic, so incredibly stupid to encounter a _demon_ with a kid’s toy. His hands are shaking so much –

Shane’s eyes widen in alarm when Ryan raises the gun, and he holds up a hand as if to appease Ryan. He opens his mouth, but once again, his head is knocked to the side and Ryan screams, screams at the top of his lungs as he shoots the water gun at whatever is attacking Shane that he cannot fucking _see_.

A truly ungodly sound rips through the air. It’s so shrill that Ryan feels like his eardrum must burst any second – Shane is screaming, too –

And then, it is suddenly dead silent. Ryan still has the gun raised in Shane’s general direction, his eyes darting around in a panic. Shane is panting, as if in pain – he’s – Ryan feels his insides turn to ice. Shane is _sobbing_.

“Shane, did it hurt you,” Ryan croaks as he rushes towards the other man, who has by now sunken down into a small heap on the floor with his back against the door frame. Shane gives him a look that is utter desperation and agony, and his eyes are pleading for something Ryan does not understand – Ryan freezes.

Shane’s arm looks like he’s been flayed alive. The skin is glistening and bright pink in places, and bleeding into the pyjamas he’s wearing. There are blisters forming on his skin, turning a dark colour that looks completely black in the dim light.

Somehow, his body is once again faster than his brain, and they both somehow manage to get Ryan a good step or two away from Shane and raise the gun.

“I. What the fuck. What the fuck, Shane?”, he asks as if it were a question Shane could answer. His voice is quivering, and at this point, he can feel his sanity leaving his body. _This cannot be happening. This must be a nightmare._ “Why the ever-loving _fuck_ -“ his voice hitches, again. “-did that burn you?”

Has- has the thing – has it actually taken possession of Shane’s body? Has that awful thing, that _demon_ – because what else could have produced such a hellish scream – possessed Shane? Had he been right all along and there had been something in Shane ever since the Hanssen house? Was this a demon fest-

Shane raises both hands, eyes scrunched shut as if suddenly the light were hurting him, too. He is obviously in pain, and his face distorts with every shaky breath he draws. It is a heart-breaking sight – but that’s probably what it wants to look like. Helpless. In obvious need of help. There is a fucking _demon_ in his best friend.

“Shane - Are you – can you hear me?”

The groan he receives as an answer is both agony and annoyance. Shane curls himself just a bit tighter on himself and crosses his arms in front of his face. _Overwhelming would be an understatement._

Ryan steps the tiniest bit closer, in something he can only label as misguided bravery. He starts again, “How – How long have you been in him?”

Even in his state, even with his arm skinned and bleeding and a fucking (toy) gun to his head, Shane has the audacity to _snort_. Exhaustion creeps into his posture after that, and he lowers his arms just a bit.

“Put that gun down, Ryan. You’ll hurt yourself.” That – that thing has Shane’s voice, holy shit.

“Water doesn’t hurt me.”

“I’m not gonna jump at your throat.”

“As if I’d ever trust a demon –“

“Ryan, that’s racist – “

“Shut up. Can you let me talk to Shane?”

There is something on that thing’s – on Shane’s face that Ryan cannot place. He steps another step closer, and when Shane finally blinks an eye open just the tiniest bit, another step. Ryan is so close to that thing now that he could touch it if he wanted, and so could –

“BOO!”

Ryan’s mind practically flatlines. He bolts, and is down the corridor when he can hear Shane’s – that thing’s dry laughter echo down the hall behind him – he needs to get to his bag. He needs to reach their sleeping bags. He – in the darkness, he trips over something he cannot see, feels himself falling without having any chance of reacting, bracing himself – oh god, he is that stupid chick that runs away in the movies and stumbles over her feet - that demon is going to get him, it is going to – he crashes down into some furniture that is almost certainly haunted doll furniture because of course it is. His kneecaps and his right wrist absorb the major brunt of the impact, and his wrist actually cracks loudly in protest – his fall takes only about a second or two, but when he jumps back up, it is to Shane looming over him, grabbing for him. Ryan screeches again.

“Get the fuck away from me!” He kicks in his general direction in blatant disregard of his kneecaps and the futility of the gesture. He cannot throw feet at a demon until it goes away.

Shane, though, complies and takes a step back, raising his hands again. That is not a gesture Ryan had anticipated, but then again, this night was far exceeding his worst nightmares. They’d gone into this criminally unprepared. The water gun in his hands is his only safety, and it is more than half empty.

“So,” he begins, choking up. How is he supposed to do this to a thing with Shane’s face? “How are we going to do this, demon?” Shane – it looks at him, face carefully guarded.

“How did you plan to do this, Ryan? Are you gonna perform an emergency exorcism? Recite a few prayers? Drive a wooden stake through my heart?”

“If I have to,” Ryan huffs, but deep down he knows he could never do that last part – that thing is still carrying Shane’s face. Deep down he’s also afraid that insight is mutual. “The Lord is my shepherd-“

Shane, with bleeding, blistering arms and a gun that could burn the flesh from his bones pointed right at his face, bursts out laughing.

“The Lord is my shepherd,” Ryan repeats, louder. “I shall not, uh. …harm?” Shit. He doesn’t know the lines. Shane’s laugher is getting louder. It’s probably the demon taunting him, but Shane’s certainly having a great time in there, too.

“I thought you practised this, Ryan.”

“I’m sorry, it’s been a few years – I’ve only learnt these in Spanish!”

Shane is howling by now. Ryan shoots curses at him, both at the demon and Shane to be honest, imploring the demon to go, but neither appealing to God nor his threats seem to make much of an expression on the demon. Besides giving him a good laugh.

“Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos,” Shane suddenly says, his voice so low and calm that it does not even sound like him. The words turn Ryan’s blood to ice in his veins. “Santificado sea tun nombre. Venga tu reino. Hágase tu voluntad en la tierra como en el cielo.”

“BLASPHEMY,” Ryan screeches, and Shane once again explodes into laughter. Ryan wants to run. He wants to walk away from this, backwards, with the gun in between them and get the fuck out of here – but somewhere in that laughing maniac is Shane. The other laughing maniac. There is no way in heaven or hell he’ll leave his best friend here, to _this_. “You fucker. You said you didn’t speak Spanish!” No wonder Shane could roll the _r_ better than he himself could.

“A few words here and there.” Shane looks smug. “I think you need to sort out your priorities.”

Right. Exorcism. How the hell do you perform an exorcism? For a second, Father Thomas crosses his mind, if he could just call him – no. Besides the fact that they are three states over and it is an ungodly – heh – hour, his phone is in his backpack. It may as well be in another country.

He finally musters the courage to speak again, and decides on “Is Shane in there somewhere?”

“Of course I am. You know I’m demon proof.”

“You are very, very obviously not.”

“Stop being so smug, Ryan. No need to rub it in.”

Ryan fingers the water gun. It is such an anticlimactic element to this whole nightmare of a story. He’s encountering a real-life demon and he faces it with a water gun. “What do you want?” he says, looking the thing straight in the eyes.

“What?”

“What do you want, demon. To let Shane go and leave him alone.”

The question startles the smugness off of Shane’s or the thing’s face. His eyes just muster Ryan for a bit, as if he were actually pondering over the question.

“Don’t tempt me like this.”

“I’m not tempting, I’m offering a deal. If you refuse, I can still spray you with holy water until you leave him alone.” He wants to ask if Shane feels the pain from the water, from the burns. But how could he not. His arms are basically raw flesh.

Shane stems one hand into his hips, which is presumably supposed to look sassy but makes him wince in pain instead. Raw flesh and all. “How about,” he puts the other hand under his chin as if concentrating. “How about a kiss for good old Shane Madej?”

“The water gun it is-“

“NO, please,” the thing hurries to say, one of his hands raised again. It’s not much of a defence against water, but then again, this demon seems about as sharp as a marble.

“I mean it. I’ll shoot you until you leave,” Ryan repeats, surprised by the steadiness of his voice. Shane seems to shrink a bit in front of him.

“You’d be left with a dead body,” Shane finally says, his voice sober.

“You’d kill him?”

“You would.”

Shane’s eyes and raising eyebrows tell him that was a crucial bit of information, but Ryan cannot make sense of it. Maybe he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed either, but hey, this is beyond overwhelming. “What… what is that even supposed to mean?” he asks.

Shane looks pained. “Don’t make me do this.”

“Do what? What the hell is going on, Shane?” His voice sounds desperate, which is accurate. At this point, he doesn’t give a damn.

Shane makes a vague and very unhelpful gesture with his long arms and his eyes finally leave Ryan’s to inspect the floorboards instead. “I don’t know how to resolve this, Ryan.”

“Neither do I.” That is a step, sure. Not sure in which direction, but it is something. “Can you ask the demon what it wants?”

Shane facepalms himself with both hands at once, and groans. “My God, Ryan, if you kill the demon you end up killing me.”

“I got that. But there must be something that it wants; it cannot possess your body forever-“

Shane burrows his hands in his face, his eyes rolling up into his skull. Whether Shane is going full demon or just frustrated, Ryan cannot tell.

“How dense can you be, man. You kill the demon, you kill Shane. You kill Shane, you kill the demon. Shane equals demon. I’m the demon, Ryan!”

That last bit comes out so forcefully, and so pained, that Ryan’s brain ponders on infliction before any understanding can get through to him. When it does, he can feel the colour draining from his face.

“You – what. What the fuck. What the fuck, man? Holy fuck.” When had he lowered his gun? Since when did his hands shake like this? “What the fuck are you saying?”

Shane is smiling, but it is a forced, grotesque smile that distorts his face into something frightful. “Do you want me to dance it for you? I really don’t know how much more understandable I can make that-“

“Shut up! You – you know what I mean. Holy shit.”

Shane doesn’t say anything for a while, and just stands there. His eyes look hollow without the devilish glee in them. “Look. Can we at least get back to our sleeping bags? It’s really uncomfortable to crouch for so long.”

The suggestion confuses Ryan. He has to take another cognisant look. It slowly dawns on him just how damn tall Shane is – of course, he’s always been a beanpole, but now he has to actively bow his legs not to graze the ceiling. It is an old house. Of course, the ceiling in the corridors – excuses -something is not right – nothing is right here –

“Dude,” he breathes out. He can not believe his own eyes. Not tonight. “Have you – grown?”

“Not your brightest night tonight, huh?” Shane shrugs. “So… How about it? You keep your holy water and I can sit down and … won’t hurt Shane, if that’s what you want to believe-“

“So you admit you’re not Shane?”

“No, I – man, Ryan, how can you make this so frustrating-“

“Well, I’m sorry my demon etiquette is a bit lacking! I’ve never been in such a situation-“

“Neither have I! What was I supposed to say, though? Hey buddy, I’ve been feeling very horny lately, wink wink, midst conversation?”

“What? Oh my god, are you a succubus?”

“Eh? Are you high? I’m not -! What the – shut the fuck up, Ryan!”

Ryan does, but not because Shane is telling him to. He just needs to think. He’s still pumped up with adrenaline and fear, but somehow, he feels like he’s about to faint. Maybe sitting down is actually preferable to fainting like a Victorian Lady with her corset laced too tight.

Whatever intuition had made Shane perceptive to Ryan freaking out before – when they had held hands – it feels like aeons ago by now – it seems to be aware of his wavering resolve. Shane finally turns, wordlessly, and begins walking in the general direction of their sleeping bags. Presumably. Ryan is 100% lost. His mouth opens almost reflexively to protest, but there’s nothing he can say or do, really. The smell of scorched flesh reaches him even from 15 feet away.

Which is too far. He hurries to run after Shane, and the demon, or just Shane who had lost his mind. He is not gonna be alone in a haunted house.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other half of this very, very, very long and painful encounter - you've been warned. Thank you guys so, so much for all your comments and encouraging words! English is not my native language and the only words I learnt to express my gratitude are "Thank you", but they don't do justice to just how overwhelmed and touched I am by your support! It means the world to me. Take care, everyone! ◕ᴗ◕✿
> 
> ***

This is purportedly the weirdest situation that Ryan has ever found himself in, and that is saying something. While Ryan stands in the doorframe, unsure of how to proceed, Shane collapses onto his sleeping bag and leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He’s made no attempt to attack Ryan so far; he doesn't even bother looking at him. It is awfully silent.

Ryan only stares and thinks and freaks out for a while, until he remembers there is actual electricity in this house - welcome to the 21st century. There must be a light switch in the general area of the wall next to him, and he starts to cautiously feel around for it. He’s both anxious and excited about – literally - bringing some light into this mess of a situation – maybe, a part of him hopes, he is having the worst nightmare of his life and he will wake up next to Shane asleep and completely fine and not a demon beside him as soon as the light turns on. _Please_?

A small, pitiful sound carries over to him from the general direction of Shane’s body. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what.”

“The light,” Shane mumbles through his crossed arms. “Please.”

If asked, Ryan couldn’t tell why he complies, but he does. The hand that has searched for the switch turns to fiddle with his sleeve instead. The demon has had a variety of opportunities to attack by now – is it trying to play with him? Is it taunting him? What is that sound?

That sound is a whimper. Probability dictates that its most likely source is Shane, although Ryan cannot really wrap his head around that idea – why is his brain not working when he needs it so desperately? He may as well have imagined the noise, but the shaking in Shane’s taunt shoulders is definitely there. Not good. There is something so wrong here that Ryan’s mind cannot even grasp it.

When he takes a cautious step into the room, Shane’s head snaps up. Ryan can only make out the vague outlines of his body – he might be eight feet tall from what Ryan can tell – _(isn’t he always?) – this is not the time for puns_ \- but the body in front of him looks strangely out of proportion. Too thin, as if regular Shane had been stretched and his limbs had grown even scrawnier than they already were. Ryan decides that against the wall opposite from Shane is the perfect place to sink to the floor, as it provides both a ( _reasonably safe?_ ) distance to the potentially lethal entity across him and is… something solid he can lean against. Just in case his consciousness decides to screw with him again.

“What do we do now, big guy?”

Shane shrugs his shoulders. “No idea. I… I didn’t think we’d ever be in this situation.”

“Neither did I.”

Ryan clears his throat one, two times, and finally asks, “So, uhm. Let me get this straight. You’re honestly trying to tell me that… Shane Madej is a demon?” That damn hitch in his voice. _That just cannot be true. It must not be true_.

Shane looks almost nauseous, and shifts around a bit before answering. “I didn’t want to tell you, ever, if that’s any consolation,” he says, lamely.

“It’s not. This is just – so fucked up, man. You’re honestly a demon?”

“Yeah.”

“Have always been? Like, the whole time that we’ve known each other?”

He hadn’t thought the amount of discomfort on Shane’s features could increase, but it does. Shane hurries to say ”I didn’t lie to deceive you. I only wanted… You wouldn’t _ever_ have wanted to be my friend if you’d known.” Another shrug, albeit a shaky one. He almost sounds close to tears.

Ryan wants to say he would, because he loves Shane, but at the same time he knows the words are true. At least he would have looked up how to perform an emergency exorcism by now.

“A demon wanting to be… _friends_ with me? That’s… kinda a lot to take in,” he mumbles, not sure whether he’s talking to himself or Shane by now.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Ryan thinks for a while, which isn’t much use at the moment. “The thing was in this house before we arrived,” he finally says. Maybe he’s grasping at straws now, but screw it. “It took over your body; I saw it attacking you.”

“Yeah, there was something in here before we arrived. I didn’t notice it immediately, I’m sorry. But he’s a bit of a sneaky asshole who just, uh, loves chaos.” _Still sounds like you._ Some very small voice in the back of Ryan’s head wants to scream a triumphant _HA!_ – hearing Shane acknowledge anything even remotely paranormal has been on his bucket list for years now, but not like this. “But it’s – how can I be sure it didn’t possess you? And this isn’t the demon of this house talking?” he asks instead.

Shane taps his temple with a single finger, and says “’s already occupied.”

“That’s no proof at all.”

“I don’t have proof, okay?” Shane snaps, and immediately lowers the volume of his voice. “I don’t know what you want me to say. The fucker has had his fun with us and pissed off. Take it or leave it, Ryan.” _Definitely **leave it** if Ryan had any say at it._ After there is no answer from Ryan, Shane rearranges his limbs again, trying very obviously and obviously painfully to find a position that doesn’t put strain on his arms. It must hurt like hell, pun not intended.

“…Shall we get you to a hospital?” Ryan feels weird for even asking, and he wouldn’t know how to explain these injuries to anyone either. Shane just shakes his head.

“It’ll heal,” Shane sighs. “I just can’t – not right now.”

This whole thing still feels like Shane is messing with him, but the punchline never comes. And the smell of burnt flesh is still choking him and the lines on Shane’s face speak of pain that he cannot imagine. Why can’t this all just… stop?

“Why not? If you are – If you’re a, you know what?”

“Oh, we’re too afraid to say the word _dem_ _ỗ_ _n_ now? What is supposed to happen anyway? Another _dem_ _ӫn_ about to show up? It’s gonna be a real party in here.”

“Stop making fun of me, Jesus! I’m just trying to help! And I still think we should have someone look at your arms.”

“Ryan, I cannot go out looking like _this_ ” Shane spits out with such pained force that Ryan actually feels sorry for him. Yes, there is a demon in there, but so is Shane and Shane is in pain. “You realise I can’t see shit, Shane?”

“I think that’s for the best.”

Ryan shuts up. For a while, neither of them says anything, and he can hear Shane gulping a few times.

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Shane finally says, hesitantly. “I know you only want to help.”

Oh. Ryan hadn’t actually expected something akin to remorse from Shane, and he wasn’t sure what to do with this. Pliancy was the last thing he associated with either Shane or demons. Or Shane, who was a demon.

***

After ten minutes, they are still silent and from how much Shane’s breathing has calmed down from where he’s collapsed, the guy may as well have fallen asleep. The water gun is still in Ryan’s hands, but somehow he doubts he could bring himself to use it against Shane now that he… knows. Suspects. Has been told. It’s just a – a protective measure. Just to be safe.

His eyes are only very gradually adjusting to the darkness; not that there is much to see with the little light that falls through the coloured glasswork of the windows. A headache is on its way to split his brain apart, and all he wants to do is sleep. Instead, he talks.

“Where did it go? The – the demon? Or whatever it is?”

Shane lulls his head from one shoulder to the other at that, but doesn’t give much more of an indication that he’s conscious. Only after a while does he say, “Demon.”

“Like, another one? Besides you?”

Shane grunts a sound that is presumably affirmative.

“And you’re sure it’s gone?”

“He’s not in here, at least,” Shane responds, seeming very tired of this conversation. It’s not a talk either of them had expected to have anytime soon, or ever. “Don’t worry, you’ll be safe. I’ll… I can still kick his ass.”

It’s an odd thing to say for a demon, Ryan thinks. It’s an odd thing to take a human form and keep it for so long and just… not do anything with it. “I feel much better already,” he says drily, and Shane smirks. After a while of quiet contemplation, Ryan outright asks, without thinking really, “Where’d he go, though? Do demons – uh, is there a hell?”

This still feels beyond strange. But he is Ryan Bergara, and if there is any chance to get an answer to the most central enigma of his life, he will damn well take it. This is a once-in-a-(few people’s)-lifetime opportunity. Shane disrupts his thoughts when he shifts again, and groans so lowly that Ryan remembers what he is actually dealing with. Shane may be injured, and in pain, but there is still a fucking demon in front of him. There is no answer.

It is silent for so long that Ryan starts to fear Shane might vanish at any second. Demon or not, the thought of being left here alone – or with yet another demon – is beyond terrifying. With the disregard for self-respect that seems to be his guiding principle for this night, Ryan whispers Shane’s name in a panicky, too high-pitched voice, but once again receives no answer.

…Shane wouldn’t die from a bit of holy water, would he? It’s just… flesh, right?

Yet another whisper goes unanswered, and Ryan finally gets up on shaky legs that decidedly object to supporting his weight. Nothing in his body wants to comply with him, indeed; everything in him screams at him to get away, to leave this place, his fight or flight response rearing its head. But no, he’ll stay here and fight this out. He can’t leave Shane behind, whatever the fuck is going on.

The beam of his flashlight hits Shane’s form, but there’s still no reaction. His chest is moving up and down, so at least he’s breathing – the guy’s out for good. Ryan’s out of ideas how to proceed, so he grasps the gun even tighter and settles down on his sleeping bag without taking his eyes off of the other man. Still a few feet away, but at least from here and with the flashlight he can actually see something.

And it’s almost too much to behold, really. The sight makes his mind reel the same way that an obviously fake video or a jumpscare do – like his brain immediately realises something is not right about the figure in front of him, that he needs to get away from it. But he stays. Sleep is the furthest thing from his mind as he sits on his sleeping bag and just stares, and tries to process. Some light starts to come through the windows, tinting the scene in an even stranger, unreal hue.

The skin on Shane’s arms has been burnt to a variety of pink and wine-coloured patches that may as well be black with what little light there is, and there are blisters forming on them – the smell makes Ryan gag. And he’s definitely imagining it, his overactive imagination playing tricks on him – but from where he sits and stares, it almost looks like there are fucking horns peeking through Shane’s hair. No. It’s just hair. Ryan is finally losing it. Besides that, the most mindboggling thing is – his size, obviously. _Not much of a difference to real Shane_ , Ryan thinks and surprises himself with a small chuckle. Shane furrows his brow at the sound, and with a jolt he springs to life – his eyes are completely black.

The eyes fall on Ryan who must, no doubt, look absolutely horrified, and in a blink too quick to catch, they return to normal. They muster Ryan, abashed.

“Uh, hey,” Shane mumbles, his voice hoarse. Ryan clutches the water gun just a little tighter.

“Hey.”

“You gonna shoot at me again?”

Ryan shrugs, his lips quivering into something that could almost be called a smile. “If you make me?”

Shane looks as if he wants to say something stupid, but he averts his gaze instead. For a while he seems to ponder something, grinding his teeth on it, but instead of saying anything, he just keeps pulling at the sleeves of his poor pyjama.

“I guess there’s no chance I can convince you that you hallucinated this night, huh?”, he finally asks drily. Maybe it’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s no fire behind it. Ryan responds by simply shaking his head.

“Look, Ryan, I’ve thought about telling you. But – I just, I thought you’d be terrified.”

“Damn right, I am,” Ryan says back. The tone is neither accusatory nor agitated. In fact, he sounds remotely collected, which is an impressive feat given their current situation.

“Yeah,” Shane mumbles, looking more crestfallen by the second. “But look, I never hurt you, like ever. Besides the jokes about your height and your delusions about spỡổky stuff – I’m getting off the rails. You have to believe me that – that I’d never _hurt_ you, Ryan.” There it is again, that heartbroken expression that Ryan cannot bear to look at. When he doesn’t answer, Shane hurries to add a silent “Please.”

Ryan stays quiet for some time, mustering the blemishes on Shane’s skin instead – which seem to fade right in front of his eyes. It looks as if Shane is actually shrinking, morphing back into the human – human-looking something that Ryan knows. Used to know. He just wants to go to sleep.

“I just want to get out of here,” he finally mumbles. “How about we…” He wants to believe Shane, he really does. But he just can’t bring himself to trust him after such a revelation. His brain feels like it’s frozen, and he cannot process any of it. There is still a chance this is a demon fucking with him, and using Shane without… deep down he knows that he doesn’t believe that, though. That thing in front of him is weakened, and exhausted and in agony, but it still is _Shane_. “Let’s call the crew and tell them you got sick or something.” The thought of driving back besides Shane, and having to sit next to him in an enclosed space with no way to escape turns his stomach.

Shane visibly lights up at that, a flash of something too hopeful and too endearing crossing his face. “Bad hotdogs?”

Ryan stoically keeps the smile from his face. What an insane amount of willpower this night has cost him. “Something a bit more serious maybe,” he replies. “Like burning yourself.”

“On holy water?” It is uttered with a wink, but there’s a clear question in it. _What will you tell the others?_ A sudden thought hits Ryan, and once it’s there, it’s all he can think about.

“Will you… would you bail on me if I told anyone? About you being – you know?”

Shane hesitates. There is probably no satisfying answer to this because Ryan wants Shane gone just as much as the thought scares him to death. He needs the demon to disappear forever, and never set eyes on him ever again, but the thought of losing Shane is too much to handle right now. How is anything about this supposed to work? Ever?

“…Probably,” Shane finally says. At least he’s being honest, Ryan hopes, before wondering how his brain manages to expect honesty from a fucking _demon_. “I mean I’m not too keen on fighting Father Thomas.”

“Father Thomas would kick your ass. And then mine. For cooperating with a demon.”

Shane grins a crooked smile at that, and raises an eyebrow in Ryan’s direction. “Cooperating, huh?”

“You know what I mean. We’re practically doing every single thing he specifically asked us not to-“ Another thought strikes him mid-sentence, and his face falls. “– oh my _god._ Wait. Did you – _did you mess with the entities we encountered_? God, the – the _integrity_ of our show –“

Shane shrugs, the familiar look of smugness appearing on his face again. “Maybe. I won’t tell you. As I always say, let some things be a mystery.”

“Oh my god,” Ryan moans, and grabs the bridge of his nose to hide that the corners of his mouth quirk upwards. “You are the absolute worst.”

“So I’ve been told.”


	14. Chapter 14

They get their stuff packed and loaded into the car in the same trance-like manner as that family that disappeared after their mysterious road trip. The parents and their child. They don’t talk, because Shane still looks utterly exhausted and Ryan has too many damn thoughts and questions and worries on his mind, so he ends up saying nothing at all.

The drive here had been about 6 hours, and he’d been wide awake then – that means there’ll be at least as many hours that he’ll be trapped in there with Shane now. When Ryan picks up his phone and calls the crew with a heavy heart, he wonders if this is the last time anyone hears of him. Maybe the next BFU episode will be about Shane and Ryan vanishing from the face of the earth.

***

Shane is driving, and Ryan is thankful for that. It hangs in the silence between them, the fact that being behind the wheel with someone he’s afraid of next to him is just too much to ask for at the moment. Shane doesn’t ask. He’d briefly glanced at the water gun that Ryan still keeps on himself, and then he’d taken the keys without another word. It’s a nice gesture, Ryan decides, but there is still a chance the demon is trying to lull him into a false sense of security. It doesn’t make much sense to him, but then again, nothing does with his brain so clouded. This must be what Shane's laptop always felt - no wonder it was always screaming.

Shane is silent throughout the ride, and Ryan eyes him inconspicuously. Tries to at least, but if Shane notices, he doesn’t give any indication of it. Maybe the demon had –

_Oh holy shit._

Among all the stress of the last night and its revelations, he had somehow managed to completely forget the fact that Shane – demon Shane, purportedly - had kissed him a while ago.

Whatever deity may be up there, Ryan sends a quick prayer of gratitude for the fact that Shane has his eyes on the road, because otherwise he would have noticed that Ryan’s face has turned beet-red. Maybe he does anyways, the corner of his mouths do quirk upwards very suspiciously.

***

This is not how any of this trip was supposed to go, and even when Shane pulls over at a gas station that sells cheap, bitter coffee and items that could be considered breakfast only under the widest understanding of the word, it all feels so… _wrong_. When Shane exits the car and heads inside, Ryan feels a sudden urge to just get up and run. He shouldn’t feel this antsy when Shane hasn’t harmed him in any way, but he almost feels like he’s been kidnapped. There’s nowhere he can run to anyway, so really, it’s stupid. He wants to go home. He wants to sleep for a million years.

Shane is back a few minutes later, and Ryan has made no escape attempt. The tall man hands him a cup with an uncertain smile on his face, and Ryan’s eyes fall on the skin on his arms as the cuff of his shirt slides back. The blisters are gone, somehow, and all that is left is flesh that’s scabbed over and will certainly leave some scars. Maybe. He’s not sure about the intricate details of demonic skin regeneration. He’s not sure about anything. He takes the cup with a silent nod.

“Does it still hurt?” Ryan asks when Shane’s pulled back onto the road. There are few vehicles around at this hour, and even the sun doesn’t want to come out. The sky looks about ready to tear open and rain hell on them. Very appropriate.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that, Ryan. My heart? My pride? My left knee cap?”

“Your arms.”

Shane shoots him a quick glance, and shrugs. “Yeah, they do. Holy water is horrible to my dry skin.”

Ryan nods, and stares at his coffee cup as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. _Had that been an attempt at a joke?_ Usually, their road trips were a strange source of comfort for him, filling his mind with a sense of peacefulness and calm that lingered. Maybe that was because Shane usually distracted him from whatever horrible place they were going, but now, Shane is very much the source of Ryan's unease. Why does he get into a car with a fucking demon? Has he lost his mind? That’s even worse than with a stranger, maybe the stranger is just a bystander and just as confused as you! Their trip yesterday seems centuries ago.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan finally mumbles, eyes still on the cup. “'bout your arms. I thought you were being attacked.”

“I was. It’s fine, Ryan, really. It’ll heal with a bit of time.”

“It’s already healed quite a lot?”

“Being me has its perks.” Shane shoots him another cautious glance, as if testing out how much eye contact Ryan is willing to tolerate. (Not much). It’s not as if he has to keep his eyes on the road, Shane’s usually looking everywhere whilst driving. But it’s nice that he pretends to abide by traffic regulations. “Told you, demon-proof.”

“That’s not –“ Ryan splutters, dismayed, “Stop saying that; you’re obviously not ‘demon-proof’.”

Shane doesn’t respond to that, and turns up the volume of the radio instead. 

***

“Still, I think you should see a doctor or something,” Ryan eventually says, when they're past the border and closer to home than that haunted house. Another cautious look at Shane's skin. The thought that he’s responsible for that is actually weighing down on him – regardless of whether it was intentional or not, whether it will heal or not. Whether Shane's a demon or not. “Your arms looks like gore from a splatter film.”

“Thank you very much,” Shane responds drily.

“Hey, I’m trying to be helpful.”

“Christ, Ryan. If it bothers you so much, how about you kiss the pain away?”

Once again, it is a suggestion put forwards with a wink, and an awfully forced one at that, but Ryan manages to choke on his coffee nonetheless. He’s been thrown off the curve by Shane’s blatant flirting before but now – “Dude, that’s so disgusting – besides the hygienic – What the fuck is wrong with you? I have a gun that could literally kill you.”

“You have a water gun, Ryan. Your delusions of grandeur are starting to get out of hand.”

“How dare you-“

“I guess even if you told people about me-“ Shane says, with that shit-eating grin on his face, "they’d look at the water gun and chalk it up to you being a nutjob. It’s pretty much canon by now.”

“Canon? You’re insane,” Ryan sputters back to make up for the fact that he doesn’t have a real response. He’s just overwhelmed. This whole charade Shane is pulling is so obviously fake that even Ryan in his dense state notices, and he just can't wrap his head around _why_.

“That makes two of us, then.” Shane laughs, and Ryan finds himself surprised by his chuckle – oh god, how can he laugh in this moment? In this situation? Shane’s horrible puns still manage to startle him out of his anxiety for a moment, even now that Shane himself is the cause of said anxiety. It is so utterly bizarre. Maybe Ryan has died last night, of shock, and this is hell.

***

Somewhere along the road, lost in a myriad of thoughts and worries and uncertainties, Ryan must have dozed off. When he comes to it is to the car parked on Ryan’s street, and to Shane carefully undoing the seatbelt around him. When he notices Ryan is awake, he quickly steps a step away, hitting his head in the process, and they exchange an awkward nod that is neither here nor there. Ryan undoes the seatbelt himself and goes to grab his bag from the backseat. Neither of them seems to know what to say, so they don’t. When Ryan has finally gathered all his stuff, he shoots Shane an uncertain look. The guy looks pretty wiped out himself.

“So, uh,” he stutters. _Thank you for the ride? Thanks for not eating my soul?_ “See you tomorrow? At work?”

“Where else am I supposed to go?” Shane asks whilst opening the driver's door. He looks mildly inconvenienced, but whether it’s by the question or his scarring arms, Ryan cannot tell.

“I don’t know. Hunt mortal souls or make deals or something?” _This is okay_ , Ryan tells himself. _This is fine_. For reasons beyond logic, the car door in between them makes him feel much safer. Some rational part of his brain tells him it doesn’t make much of a difference, that it wouldn’t stop Shane at all if he decided to do… whatever, but he’s made a habit out of ignoring that part anyways. For god’s sake, he’s made a living out of taunting ghosts and demons.

Shane scrunches his face into a grimace, but just says “Sure. I, uh, gotta return the car.”

“So, see you tomorrow?” Ryan repeats, once again, and his fingers grab hold of the rim of the car window. He doesn’t know why he does it, and he doesn’t understand where that sudden rush of desperation comes from. Yes, he needs the demon gone, but the thought that he might lose Shane over this, may never see that dumb smile again is there so sudden and so overwhelming, it turns his insides to ice.

“That’s what I just said,” Shane says, and looks as him as if he’d said something unbelievably stupid. He actually has, but it’s not like he’s fully conscious or could be held completely accountable for his actions at this point. Shane seems to think that, too, because he finally shoos Ryan with an exhausted smile. “I’ll be there. I promise.”

Ryan feels a bit dumb for so much teenage angst, but he’s grateful, nonetheless. He nods and smiles and thanks Shane again for the coffee and the ride. He still feels awkward when the car is out of sight, and he stares into the distance for quite some time after. _Shane will still be there tomorrow._


	15. Peace Offerings

Throughout the night, Ryan tries to convince himself that the whole night prior in that nightmare house has been nothing but a hallucination, because it’s what he does. Maybe there was mould in the walls, or maybe he’d fallen and hit his head. He’s definitely hit his head; it still complains whenever he moves. Maybe there had been shrooms in the granola bar. Maybe he’s finally lost his mind.

_The tapes_. Ryan almost wishes Shane had taken them with him. He’s not sure whether Shane simply hadn’t thought about them, or he didn’t want to fight with Ryan because he knew Ryan would immediately alert every major newspaper and social media outlet – maybe he knows Ryan better than he knows himself, because so far he has done nothing of that sort. He just sits at home, staring at the images, and listens to his own voice shriek. It’s not a very flattering take, but it is true.

The image of Shane looks back at him from the small screen, with his ridiculously long limbs and dark eyes, staring right into his soul. They’re not supposed to stare into the camera, but Shane looks so solemn and calm, it’s captivating. It’s almost as if he _knew_.

Ryan hates this. This is the best evidence they’ve ever gotten, by far. He cannot delete it, he cannot delete evidence – it would betray everything he believes in, everything he’s worked so hard for over the past years. But at the same time, he knows he cannot have anyone see Shane like this.

He ends up copying the material onto his laptop, into a folder he labels ‘porn’, and then proceeds to delete the damning bits off of the cameras and recorders. It takes him the greatest part of the night, and it breaks his heart. But he also knows that he won’t be able to sleep anyways, no matter how tired he is, and at least this is something he can do. He can’t do anything about his best friend being a hellish creature, or the fact that that creature seems to fancy him, or the fact that he can barely look at him with how frightened he is now. His mind convinces him that Shane will not be there at the office tomorrow through the night, and he has his phone in his hands and Shane’s number dialled several times, but he does not call. There’s nothing he could say. This is a nightmare, and he is wide awake.

***

By the time Shane arrives at work about 10 minutes late, Ryan is ready to mc-freaking lose it.

***

Apparently, and very fittingly, Ryan’s brain seems to be physically incapable of being happy. After keeping him up all night with predictions about how he's never going to see Shane again because the guy literally sprouted wings and flew away – or quit his job, Shane’s presence now makes him antsy. His uncharacteristic composure the day before he can attribute to tiredness, and shock, but even though he’s more tired than yesterday, the shock has morphed from stunned to panicked. He cannot panic around Shane, in front of all their friends and co-workers – how can he be more anxious than yesterday, when he’d sat in the same car – Shane sets a cup of coffee onto Ryan’s desk and Ryan fucking _flinches_. He scolds himself for it, and Shane looks hurt for a second but quickly smiles.

“You okay, buddy?” He says, quietly. “You look like shit.”

He looks so _normal_ , Ryan thinks, like the same guy he’s known for years – it _is_ the same guy he’s known for years. It’s just also a demon.

“Yeah,” Ryan responds, but his voice is shaky. They both know he’s lying.

Shane throws a cautious glance around the office, but no one is paying any particular attention to them. Those guys already have to look at their faces 8+ hours a day, and that does things to people. They’d probably prefer both of them wear paper bags to work when they’re editing.

“I thought, uh, I’d repay you for that coffee,” Shane says. He licks his lisp nervously, which Ryan has never seen on the guy before - his long fingers are still resting on the lid of the cup. A peace offering. “Ryan. If you want me to leave, I will.”

It is muttered so quietly that Ryan can barely make out the words, but he shakes his head almost reflexively. He means it. Yes, he’s on edge, and the demon in Shane is scaring the ever-loving hell out of him, but he has worried about Shane leaving enough for now. He reaches for the cup.

Around the office, their interactions are as pliant and as friendly as ever that day, and it’s not as if the staff around them is bored enough to pay them any attention. Shane says goodbye after work, and Ryan responds ‘See you tomorrow’ like any civilised person would. It comes out more like a question. Shane picks up on it, a thankful smile tugging on his lips, and nods.

***

The telephone, technological marvel that it is, seems to be the perfect medium to talk to a demon, Ryan discovers throughout the next week. In person, some part of him is – most parts are, really – too timid to ask any questions that may be too personal, or any questions at all, spicy or not – that’s not the right word. But the distance between them coupled with the fact that he can get coherent, if annoyed answers without relying on a OuiJa board, is exhilarating.

“So, is there a hell?”

“I don’t know, Ryan. It’s not like they give you a ‘ _How to Demon_ ’ tutorial when you’re born.”

“You’ve never been there?” _I can barely believe that,_ he gulps down and waits for an answer instead.

“I’m there every time I have to talk to you.”

Ryan shuts up at that, until Shane sighs. It comes through the speaker as a crackling noise. “Sorry, buddy. There are just some things that… I don’t know. I’m not supposed to talk about them, I think.”

“Oh, okay,” Ryan says, but it’s not. Because Ryan has to know everything. This is a chance of a lifetime, of few lifetimes probably. But at the same time, he decides he doesn’t have to pester Shane about this right now. Talking about these things seems to put the big guy in actual distress.

“Does the – does the spirit box actually work?”

“NO.” That comes out a bit too fast, and Shane chuckles quietly on the other end of the line. Whatever he’s about to say, Ryan will discard it - Shane’s too biased. “Look, Ryan. Whatever I say, you’ll either end up scared shitless or I crush your enthusiasm for all this spȭὂky stuff“ - _The way he pronounces spooky is definitely meant to be insulting-_ “so I won’t do either. Let it be-“

“If you say, ‘Let it be a mystery’ I’ll come over and kick your arse.”

“Well, you can certainly try, but it’s not like you could reach it.”

***

They don’t talk about the new revelation between them at work. At all. Of course not. If it takes Shane any effort to hide horns, or joke any suspicions – that no one actually seems to harbour? – away, it doesn’t show. It’s peaceful, almost.

They still bring each other some coffee here and there, or a snack from the bakery downstairs, and Shane makes bad puns, and Ryan tries not to snicker at said puns and gets freaked out by jumpscares on the internet. And he can slowly feel his apprehension drain away from him the more he sleeps and the more Shane doesn’t sprout wings and eat him alive.

Instead, Shane seems hellbent on giving him space. They don’t go out for coffee or food anymore, and he’s even brushed away any cautious mentions of movie Thursdays from Ryan after two weeks – one would have been too soon. He’s actually starting to feel stupid about his whole hang-ups when he’s simultaneously been talking to Shane for almost every night of the past two weeks, and eventually, he asks Shane to go have some coffee. The big guy looks happy.

***

“Come on, spit it out,” Shane says when they have dinner later that month. It’s a cautious approach, a compromise, just the two of them without anyone from the team, but there are still people around in the restaurant. Not that they could stop Shane if he decided to do… whatever it is demons do, but it is a reassuring thought nonetheless. “There are more questions behind that big forehead of yours. I can hear the wheels turning over here.”

“I don’t know, isn’t it… kinda impolite to ask?” Ryan casts a nervous glance around, but no one seems to mind them.

“That usually doesn’t seem to bother you. At all.”

“Yeah, but –“

“I won’t get angry, okay? I promise.”

Ryan feels like a child caught with a hand inside the cookie jar and shoots Shane an abashed glance. It is unfair to be afraid when Shane has been nothing but nice and understanding, but he really cannot help it. “I’m sorry,” he rasps. “It’s just I – it’s not you, it’s the…” He trails off with a vague hand gesture, but Shane looks unimpressed.

“Still not over the Shane-slash-demon distinction, huh?”

Ryan actually hisses and looks around. “Do you think we should be having this conversation in the middle of a busy restaurant?”

Shane shrugs, his attention apparently caught by the cutlery. “Meh,” he says. “People already know we’re loony-heads. And they tend to ignore things they don’t want to hear in the first place.”

When their waiter shows up to take their plates away, Ryan falls completely silent. He suddenly doesn’t remember how to fake a normal conversation; he barely remembers what counts as normal anymore. Shane banters, and the waiter laughs.

“It’s still so weird to talk about,” Ryan whispers when they’re by themselves again. Well, relatively speaking. “And to get answers. Part of me is still convinced you’re fucking with me.”

It’s amazing that he can actually see in Shane’s sour expression what’s happening behind it. First, he bites down some comment on phrasing, and then he is seriously contemplating something whilst swivelling some linguine with his fork. Ryan still waits for the stupid remark, but it doesn’t come. “What question bothers you most?” Shane finally asks, his eyes still on his dinner. He looks apprehensive.

Ryan has to think about that for a while. There are still thousands of questions in his mind, and probably another thousand that he hasn’t even thought about yet – _How old are you? Do you have a birthday? Were you behind that stupid dancing plague in France? Or the one in Germany? Do you scare any ghosts away when we’re investigating? Are ghosts and demons real? Why did you kiss me back then-_

“Where are you from?”

“Illinois.”

Ryan gulps down a wheeze and tries to put on a serious expression. “That’s not what I mean. How did you… begin?”

Shane is silent for so long that Ryan begins eating his dessert again, certain that this is one of those questions Shane either cannot or will not answer. The food is absolutely delicious, and he feels almost bad for being so distracted.

“I don’t… I don’t know, really. I just came into existence, kinda. Like I’ve been sleeping for ages and then slowly woke up.”

“Huh,” Ryan says. There’s nothing particularly eloquent Ryan can contribute to that, so he doesn’t. He cannot remember being born either. “When was that?”

“I don’t remember. Couple of centuries maybe? I sleep a lot,” Shane says, a sheepish look on his face. Ryan gapes as him. There’s no way for him to ascertain whether this is supposed to be a joke or not, but it doesn’t feel like one. Shane isn’t smiling.

“You- you sleep a lot?” he repeats, still a bit stunned. Shane shifts in his seat and puts his fork down, visibly uncomfortable.

“Yeah. When I don’t… have, uhm-“

“Can I have the rest of your pasta?”

Shane looks surprised at the sudden change in topic, but thankful nonetheless. Yes, Ryan has to know, but at the same time there is only so much discomfort he can bear to see on Shane’s face. It distorts his whole demeanour, really. Maybe another time.

“Sure. Gotta eat for those gainz, right?”

“Just give it up. You’ll never get sports references right.”

***

Ryan: Did you ever temper with our investigations?

Babe ♥: It’s 3 AM, Ryan. Go to sleep

Ryan: I’m serious, Shane

Ryan: The integrity of our show is at stake

Babe ♥: Lol

Babe ♥: What integrity

Ryan: Shane, please.

Babe ♥: Not much

Babe ♥: May have shooed smth away here and there if it could’ve been dangerous

Babe ♥: Which was maybe two times

Ryan: OH MY GOD

Babe ♥: Bc most of this stuff is BS.

Ryan: SO THERE WERE ACTUALLY SPIRITS AROUND

Ryan: THAT IS SUCH A DICK MOVE

Babe ♥: Also kinda sweet, don’t u think?

Ryan: COMPLETELY NEGATING THE PURPOSE OF OUR SHOW

Ryan: MY LIFE’S WORK

Ryan: MY MAGNUM OPUS

Ryan: You dick.

Babe ♥: K. Next time I let you die. Go to sleep.

Ryan: I’ll haunt you forever.

Babe ♥: Idgaf. Ghosts aren’t real.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god, guys, this little thing I'm writing has received over 100 kudos and 1000 readers now - thank you all so, so much!! ✿◕ᴗ◕✿
> 
> This is just something I'm writing to distract me from the stuff that's going on in the world and my world right now, and I'm so amazed that so many of you seem to like it! Thanks for coming along! Take care, everyone!!! ✿
> 
> ***

Their next location is an abandoned theatre of all places. It’s in a decrepit state, because of course it is, with the walls and floors and ceilings creaking, but Shane appears completely unimpressed. Ryan, meanwhile, is about ready to lose his mind. Something about this place troubles him more than he can rationally explain, but the cameras are on and Shane is beside him and if there was anything particularly dangerous here, he’d probably have said something by now. Probably.

Besides all those horrifying facts, this is the first time he’ll be truly alone with Shane. As soon as the camera team backs off for the night, it will be just the two of them, alone, in an abandoned building. Great.

Something large and heavy manages to fall from the ceiling when they are probing the dusty curtains under it, and Ryan barely survives his subsequent heart attack. There’s nothing there when they investigate the source of the noise, but then again, there never is. Nothing but a giant, crudely drawn pentagram on the wall. Shane seems to be having the time of his life.

Ryan doesn’t really mind the fact that there is no source of the noise, because the noise itself is certainly on record. His ears still ring a bit. When he points his camera onto the pentagram, Shane steps into the frame, posing with that shit-eating grin and a victory sign.

“Dude, could you at least try to take this seriously? You heard that, too.”

“Maybe there’s been a car crash outside,” Shane suggests with a wink, but he steps out of the shot. He wanders around the room whilst Ryan gets different takes on the large pentagram – _how did that even get up there?_ \- all the while keeping that complacent smile on his face. When he appears behind Ryan to whisper something, Ryan actually jumps.

Shane actually deigns him worthy of a concerned look. He eyes the pentagram and then Ryan, and then the pentagram again. “Hey,” he murmurs, and extends his hand as if to pat Ryan’s shoulder, but stops himself. His hand just hangs in the air between them, and Ryan stares at it, and at Shane. “No need to be scared of a pentagram.”

“So it’s coincidence that we heard this hellishly loud – whatever – and then there is a fucking pentagram?”

“Ryan, I think you’re giving demons and all that shit too much credit.” The hand finally touches Ryan’s arm, if hesitantly. He probably expects Ryan to lash out at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Shane cocks his head, a conspiratorial grin creeping onto his face. He crooks his finger as if Ryan could come any closer to him than he already is. “Back in the old days,” he whispers, and Ryan can actually hear the ‘back in my days’ like a second audio, a Shane-EVP, “people thought demons were pretty dumb. Feared them, sure, but didn’t respect them.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ryan asks, confused. _Once again, what the fuck does that mean?_

Shane is so close to him that Ryan can actually feel the heat radiating off of his body. For a split second he wonders if that’s because Shane is so close to hell.

“That’s where pentagrams come from. They thought demons were dense and would try to follow any line to its end. So if you drew a pentagram, you’d catch one. Forever.”

“Does it- Does it work?”

Shane gives him a look, because clearly Ryan has outdone himself once again. He puts his hand over the microphone on his chest, shooting him another intense glare. “Well, I’m here today.”

Ryan cautiously puts his hand on Shane’s arm, the one that still rests on his shoulder. He does appreciate the history lesion, he really does. But. “Why are you telling me this?”

Shane shoots him another skewed smile – he looks proud of himself. “Pentagrams were intended as protective symbols,” he mumbles, nodding to the giant version on the wall. “Daisy wheels are the same, really. That’s why you find pentagrams and such in churches.”

“Oh.”

“Turning them upside down was just some occult 18th century fad. And now it’s on Instagram, so all angsty teenagers do it. This one-“ another nod to it “’s the wrong way ‘round tho.”

Ryan follows the direction of Shane’s mischievous look to thoroughly inspect the pentagram on the wall. Shane’s right.

For while, he just stares until his laughter surprises himself. Shane pats him on the back, grinning widely, and proceeds to take a selfie with the drawing.

“So I take it it doesn’t work?” Ryan finally whispers, and his voice is still too high. Yes, he’s afraid, but not as much as before. The giant protective pentagram may have something to do with that. It’s a really cool idea, he thinks. Maybe Ryan would get caught in that, if he were a demon. Shane grins, covering his mic again and tapping at his temple with the other hand. “I’m just a very, very clever demồn. Big brain.”

***

The relief doesn’t last long – it completely drains out of his when the solo-investigation approaches. The building is just too old and dark and _loud_ , and it’s too much for his mind to handle really. No abandoned building should make this many noises – and such weird noises, too. Some of the creaks almost sound like moans. It’s fine. It’s gonna be fine. Shane would have warned him if there was anything acutely dangerous here.

The 5 minutes take about half an hour to trickle by.

***

“You should take it easy, buddy,” Shane says when they are settling down later that night. Ryan shoots him a look from where he’s positioning the cameras. The batteries are draining like crazy here, but that could just be Shane messing with them, or shitty equipment.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he shoots back. “I’ll lose my shit if I want to. That’s pretty much the show.” For a moment, his finger lingers over his camera – he turns it off. They take hours of footage at every location, but there are moments that they don’t record as a matter of principle. When they change into their sleeping attire. When they go to the bathroom. Such stuff. Shane forgets about that so frequently that by now, they’re ritually keeping an eye on the other’s equipment as well.

After a few moments lost in thoughts, he retrieves his clothes from his bag, nods to Shane and turns to head to the bathroom. He halts to a stop in the doorframe. The estate is forfeited beyond salvageable, sure, its structural integrity questionable, of course. It has only one bathroom that is in any working order, and it’s a whole floor below. Ryan's really not too fond of the idea of walking along these corridors on his own, but he’d rather die than ask Shane to accompany him. He’s a grown man. When he turns to Shane, not to ask about that but to say something profound, he finds the man staring at him oddly. Shane notices that Ryan’s noticed, and immediately looks back at the phone in his hand.

“You can change here, man,” he says, nonchalantly. “I won’t peek.”

“That’s not – You think that’s my problem? I need to, uh. You know.”

“Take a shit?”

Ryan has to actively refrain from throwing some of his toiletries at the other man, but he gulps down his protest to ask, ‘Is there… is there something here?’

Shane musters him, his eyes for once alert and sombre. They are mesmerising, really. Finally, he nods. But at the same time, he says, “You’ll be fine. Take your shit in peace.”

“I swear to God, if I get killed by a ghost I’ll come back to haunt you.”

The cameras have all mysteriously turned back on when Ryan returns, and he’s shivering with how much of his body heat this environment is drawing from him. Expenditure. Shane is already asleep in his sleeping bag, a giant caterpillar that snores.

Ryan moves his sleeping bag just the tiniest bit closer to Shane’s.

***

He has a vague impression of Shane telling him that he needn’t be scared of ghosts and demons and such things that night. ‘It’s not the demons that cause the horrors in the world,” his voice says, quietly, “although humans sure do love to blame them.’ That is not an extraordinarily comforting idea, Ryan thinks. He could almost swear he’s feeling Shane’s fingers brush through his hair.

He really can’t tell whether he’s dreaming all of this. If he does, it’s a nice dream.


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning, Shane is silent and Ryan feels like he’s been hit by a bus. There wasn’t much sleep in it for him, which he completely ascribes to the building’s noises and not at all to the whirlwind of his thoughts. Something has occurred to him that he has to process in peace, and not in the middle of a haunted theatre. Ryan is too lost in his own head to notice much of what Shane’s saying to him, or what he’s doing really. He’s dreamt of Shane caressing his hair, which is an issue in and of itself. But he really liked that, and he wants Shane to do it again.

Fuck.

The crew is a team of actual angels, like they always are, and they bring coffee and even an assortment of food items that could count as breakfast under a very generous definition. All of them are tired while they load their gear and equipment into the car, with the occasional remark here and there. The sun is just barely grazing the horizon. They’ve got a long journey ahead.

As soon as the tires hit the road, Ryan’s dead asleep. He dreams of the theatre, and of ghosts and demons, and inverted and non-inverted pentagrams, okay, and once again he dreams of Shane’s hands in his hair. It’s nice while it lasts, but it’s really uncomfortable to come to with his cheek on Shane’s shoulder, slobbering all over the guy. This is an issue.

***

“Are there any reliable sources on demons? I mean, is it true what they say in the bible and such stuff?”

There is a long pause on the other end of the line, which Ryan interprets as dismay. “Why,” Shane finally asks. “You rebranding to demon-hunter now?”

“No. Maybe. I’m just wondering, you know? I’ve read up on this and that so that I don’t have to bother you with all that stuff.”

“You don't bother me.”

 _Oh_ , Ryan thinks. _Thanks. You still owe me an answer._ There’s a loud bang as if Shane either dropped something or dropped himself, and a gruff noise crackles through the microphone.

“You okay?”

Shane sighs into the phone. “There are hints of truth in everything, Ryan. Bits and pieces. But you have to remember most texts have gone through the medieval equivalent of Google translate about 2000 times.”

“Huh. I never thought of that,” Ryan admits, raising his eyebrows. The translation part at least. “Uh, by the way. Thanks for telling me all this stuff. I really appreciate it.”

Shane hesitates on the other end. “I thought that’s why you – I mean I’m trying to impress you with my extensive knowledge here,” he jokes, but it comes off a bit stiff. “But you’re, uh, welcome. There are some Grimoires that are pretty cool. I mean, still – take it with a grain of salt-“ Ryan has to chuckle, and quickly covers his mouth with his hand, “and yeah, don’t try to summon something, at least not without me, but otherwise you’ll be fine.”

“Aren’t Grimoires more concerned with magic?” Ryan interrupts him, sitting up. _Magic?_ God no. If magic with a capital M now comes into all of this, too -

“Depends on the one you read. Like I said, most stuff is baloney. But the, uhm. Munich Manual of Demonic Magic – stop laughing – it’s pretty accurate. Some parts. And solely focusses on demonic stuff, so. I think we have one on the shelf on set.”

“What? Are you fucking with me?”

“Ryan, I take the accuracy of our decorum very seriously.”

Ryan snorts back, and lays back down. “What other mystical books do we have that I know nothing about?” he mumbles, and notes how tired he sounds. His whole body feels heavy, and about ready to go to sleep.

“You sit in front of those books for hours every week, man. The great brown one, with the golden letters?”

“Don’t remember.”

“That’s the Sworn Book of Honorius.”

“Sounds… pompous?”

“Oh, wait. I’ll get you the, uhm. What’s it called. The Clavicle of Solomon revealed by some important Greek dude. That’s juicy.”

“Juicy?” Ryan repeats, smiling into the phone. Whatever he’d expected from this call, a book recommendation wasn’t it. But in general, Shane’s taste in books isn't’t half as bad as his taste in movies. Which doesn’t mean much.

“Yeah. Reads like a soap opera. Spells of love, envy, destruction, baby.”

“Do they work?”

“Well, you can certainly try.”

That’s about as much of an answer as any, but Ryan doesn’t mind. He stretches himself out further on his couch, and empties the rest of his root beer. He’s sleepy, but he enjoys talking to Shane too much – the dude talks about this stuff with the same vigour that he usually only reserves for those people in France, and it does something to Ryan’s heart. Shane continues to blabber, until Ryan dozes off, with his voice in his ears. He’ll ask Shane about Grimoires more often.

***

There is a photo of them on Instagram that none of the team admits to have taken. Ryan is asleep in it, with his head resting on Shane’s shoulder, who leans back with his arms crossed and eyes closed. He cannot tell whether Shane is actually sleeping, too, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. The internet goes apeshit once again, and Shane bets 50 Dollars on the perpetrator being TJ. Ryan doesn’t disagree.

…

Ryan saves the picture. He glances at it once in a while, and finally realises that Shane’s holding another letter in his hand.

…God no. Shane isn’t actually writing him love letters, is he? No. God, the amount of discomfort that that would entail – the guy can barely write, Ryan can barely read. And judging by Shane’s impromptu poetry about the Sun and such, he’d rather listen to the Hot Daga all over again. That’s saying something.

***

Why it is so hard for him to admit that he actually, really, unironically maybe likes Shane, Ryan cannot say. There’s a lot of pride to it. Why the feeling of Shane’s lips on his is back all of a sudden, weeks after the incident, he knows even less. Shane hasn’t really done or said anything about that ever since it happened, and then there’d been a revelation of unimaginable proportion – his head’s been busy, is all. Maybe his processing unit is several weeks behind and just now actually catching up on that part.

The problem isn’t even that he doubts Shane likes him or that they get along or something like that – he just cannot imagine Shane and him – like that. Or maybe he can, because they are actually behaving like a married couple, but the – the physical part – why is he even thinking about this? How can he be almost 30 and only now try to figure such stuff out?

Because it hasn’t been relevant up until now, Liz suggests late one night. They’re still talking, a lot, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff – someone who isn’t also friends with Shane. A venn diagram of their respective friends would pretty much be one single circle.

So he tells Liz about that one tiny crush he’d had on the guy from his baseball team. Or maybe his tutor. One kiss, when playing truth or dare. Kid’s stuff, really. “But these crushes were so uh, insignificant that I didn’t even notice I’d had them back then,” Ryan says, “Or maybe I’m just fabulating some nonsense into this now because suddenly it’s an issue. I don’t know.”

“Is it, though? An issue?”

Ryan thinks about that for quite some time. Liz is very patient and kind with him, but her questions always hit home just a bit too close. “Uhm, yeah. I mean, this is Shane. He, um, apparently he has feelings and emotions and such stuff. I don’t want to…” _hurt him._

He trails off, and Liz finishes the sentence for him.

“Yeah. I mean, no. I wouldn’t want that, just because I’m confused.”

He can almost hear the scoff through the phone. Maybe this is a sensitive topic with her, too, what with her being bisexual and stuff.

“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to say that you’re confused. You’re perfectly fine.“

Liz hums, and responds, “I know I am. But you’re confused, yes. Not ‘just’ confused, air quotes, just confused.”

“That’s pretty much my MO.”

Liz laughs. “I’ll think about this for a while,” she states. “But before, I think we both should get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Yeah, sure. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Good night.”

“Good night.”

***

Talking to her definitely feels different from talking to Shane, Ryan thinks instead of going to sleep. Despite the fact that he’d been ready to sleep with her a while ago. It’s easy to say what he feels for her, that amicable warmth that comes with a fulfilling friendship. But with Shane, it’s different. More complicated. It always is.


	18. Chapter 18

“ _Mama_ ,” Shane greets him, and pushes a six pack of beer and pizzas – their ritualistic offerings for movie night – into Ryan’s arms as soon as he’s opened the door.

“What the fuck?”

“ _Mama_. It’s on Netflix now, and I thought we could give it a try?”

Usually, Shane’s recommendations when it comes to films are outright awful. Not even artistic in how bad they are, just downright… bad.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have anything better to do on a Thursday night,” Ryan says as Shane brushes past him. He throws himself onto the couch, winking at Ryan.

“I know you don’t.”

Shane’s right, so Ryan doesn’t answer and simply closes the door behind him, a content smile spreading on his face almost unconsciously.

Shane is one of those insufferable people who keep interrupting a movie to propose theories, and he makes stupid comments on the characters, and tries to predict the plot twist he assumes is in every movie. As always, he misses by about a mile.

But then again, Ryan hadn’t seen that twist coming either; he is actually impressed. He can count the times Shane’s suggested a decent movie on one hand, and this is one of them. It’s a bit too good for his taste, actually, and he feels a bit queasy. Unsettled. He scoots a bit closer to Shane, but Shane doesn’t seem to mind. He scoots even closer, until their shoulders are pressed against each other, the heat of another body seeping through his shirt. They sit like that for quite some time, and another, horrifically incoherent horror movie starts up on screen.

The movie is bad not only in comparison to what they’ve seen before, but it’s also not bad enough to really hold his attention. It is so calming to just sit here, with Shane beside him, and close his eye and doze off. Has his mind forgotten about the whole demon thing? Is he one of those sceptics who only believe something when they see it – is he a Shaniac? _God no._

“I…uhm," Shane finally stutters, so quietly that Ryan can barely make out his voice over the background noise of the TV. “I’d really hoped you’d never find out, Ryan.”

Ryan leans into him, putting his head on his shoulder whilst he processes that. He’s a bit slow, with all the beer and the late hour and such. “I know,” he mumbles. “And not gonna lie, it’s pretty overwhelming but… I mean, you’re still Shane.” His hand wraps around Shane’s arm. He’s brave today. “So that’s something?”

Shane seems to stiffen a bit under him, but he doesn’t push Ryan away or anything. “I can see you lying, Ryan. You’re still scared out of your mind.”

Ryan actually chuckles, surprising both of them. “You’re giving yourself too much credit here. I’m also very drunk.”

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who puked on this very couch the last time he slept here.”

“That was the damn salt-“

“HA! So you admit I was right?”

“If you manage to keep down four tablespoons of salt, sure.”

Ryan finds himself somewhat distracted by his hand that is still wrapped around Shane’s bicep. Maybe it’s because he’s drunk, and tired, but something about this act seems weirdly intimate. Shane’s so warm under his fingers, like there’s a fire burning under his skin, the heat of which seeps through his clothes. “You’re so hot,” he says without thinking. His brain follows sluggishly when Shane gawks at him, confusion plastered onto his face. Then he bursts into a fit of laughter that only makes Ryan blush more.

“I mean – you’re very – your body. Temperature.” Damnit, this is supposed to be his native language. But he just can’t sort through his thoughts with Shane so close, and so warm, and his cheeks burning like fire. He wants to kiss him, he really, really does.

For what it’s worth, Shane seems to be just as overwhelmed with the situation. There's a shift in his posture, tension creeping in, as if he only now realises this is the first time they’re alone. Without crew or cameras or spectators in any form. His fingers twitch as if he wants to brush Ryan's hand away. Ryan wonders if Shane can see any ghosts in his apartment.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Shane finally bites out, although it’s clear from his face that he does not. “About the whole demon thing? I don’t… you really needn’t be scared. I'd never...."

Ryan just shakes his head. There’ll be a time to talk about this, but only when it doesn’t make Shane look like he's suffering from internal bleeding. “Shane,” he finally says and moves his hand up to Shane’s shoulder. The tips of Shane’s ears are just the tiniest bit pink. “Can I ask you something else?” He will never find the courage to ask this when sober, so it’s now or never.

Shane very visibly bites down on his tongue to not reply ‘you just did’, and just nods instead. Ryan carefully stokes his thumb on Shane's shoulders, as if he could brush the tension away. “Can you… can you get into my head?”

Shane looks at him with an unreadable expression, his mouth set in a straight line. “What?”

“Could you – could you get in my head and make me do things I don’t want to? Or think?”

That was not supposed to come out either this panicked or this high, but it does. Shane looks at him like he’s been struck. It’s a valid question though, and it would explain so much.

“I, I think,” Shane stutters, and clears his throat. The grip he has on Ryan’s shoulder falters, and he suddenly can’t meet Ryan’s eyes. “You’ve had a bit too much to drink-“

“Please answer me, Shane. Honestly,” Ryan almost begs, and it comes out like a whine. _For God’s sake_.

Shane shuts his mouth, and only stares. He looks like he’s bit into a lemon, his whole face contorting. He continues his staring, unblinking, for so long that Ryan gets anxious himself. That had probably been a very insulting thing to ask. It’s not like he actually thinks Shane did something to him, it’s just-

“I could, I think. I haven’t done it in ages. But I’d _never_ -“

“So you’re not in my head?”

Shanes eyes soften into that soft smile that just radiates warmth. “I’d rather not go there,” he hums, his eyes crinkling. “Seems like a terrible place. No offense, buddy.”

“Good,” Ryan says, and actually sighs with relief. Shane raises a questioning eyebrow at him, but he just cannot explain that he’s been having these thoughts lately and they all more or less centre around groping his best friend.

Instead of talking about that, Ryan sits up on his heels so he at least appears to have some height on Shane, which is ridiculous. His right hand uncurls itself from where it’s crammed into the fabric of Shane’s shirt, and reaches towards Shane’s face instead – he watches himself do it, really, and so does Shane. Ryan is fairly certain none of this is real at this point. His fingers are shaking, and both of them stare at Ryan’s hand that’s hanging in the air between them.

Shane flinches when Ryan’s fingertips finally make contact with his cheek, his eyes still fixed on Ryan. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Is that, is that okay?” Ryan mumbles, feeling just as unsure as Shane looks. He’s about to pull his hand away when Shane nods. Ryan smiles a quivering smile, too distracted by how warm Shane’s skin is under his fingers, and how soft it is. He’s not an overly touchy person in general, but this is something else. Whatever spirits possess him – he wants to – to know he hasn’t been hallucinating for weeks straight. He needs to know Shane is really there.

Shane is completely still whilst Ryan finally cups his cheek in his hand, both of them too startled to speak. It’s an utterly surreal moment. Nice, yes, but too weird to be real. Ryan watches himself stroke his thumb along Shane’s cheek like he’s having an out-of-body experience. The skin is soft, but the stubble is quite a contrast. He’s never really touched another man’s face.

Ryan finally moves the hand that isn’t in Shane’s face to the side of his neck, the side Shane usually rubs whenever he’s nervous – time seems to have screeched to a halt. Ryan slides his thumb over Shane’s bottom lip, who takes a startles breath. It sounds like a drowning man’s. The hand moves under Shane’s chin, who obeys without hesitation and lifts his face just a bit – something in the back of Ryan’s mind is insanely pleased with that, but he’s too distracted to take note. Shane’s eyes are wide.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks in a voice so low it doesn’t even sound like him, completely mesmerised by the sight of his fingers on Shane. How he cannot feel any shame at this moment is beyond him. Probably drowned out by that overwhelming sense of excitement that envelops his guts by now. Shane nods a bit jerkily, eyes still wide, and Ryan leans forward and presses his mouth on Shane’s. He keeps the kiss as gentle as he can, because good old Shane Madej looks like he’s seen a ghost.

Shane’s lips are surprisingly soft, is all Ryan can think. His brain is completely wiped clean at that moment, any conscious thought wiped away by sheer bliss. After a second, he feels Shane’s lashes flutter closed against his skin, and the body under his goes from stiff to pliant. It’s like Shane is melting into him.

Cautious hands settle on Ryan’s back, and burrow in the fabric of his shirt there, and Ryan’s absolutely delighted. He tries to put that question into the kiss that he just cannot put into words – oh. _Oh._

Ryan breaks the kiss, and gasps for air. “Dude,” he huffs, and rubs his hand over his mouth. “Don’t you have to breathe or anything?”

Shane doesn’t answer, but looks about as uncomfortable as Ryan’s ever seen him. He shifts a bit where he sits, and Ryan isn’t staring, he really isn’t – maybe that’s karma for Shane always wearing those skin-tight jeans. Shane finally rasps his name, which pulls Ryan out of his thoughts. “What in the hell – why did you _do_ that?”

“You kissed me, too,” Ryan pouts. The idea that Shane might have changed his mind in the last weeks hasn’t crossed his thoughts till now, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Yeah,” Shane chuckles, but there’s little humour in it. “Several weeks ago?”

 _And this is karma for never talking about it_. Ryan shrugs. “I, I just, uhm. Wanted to.”

“Dude, that’s kinda weird.”

Ryan actually laughs out at that, but yes, it is. Not the most pressing issue at hand though, pun not intended. “It just kinda…” _It felt right_. He cannot say _that_. “I’m sorry, that was stupid. I just… think… I kinda.” Deep breath, Ryan. You’ve already dropped the phone, might as well stomp on it. “I think I kinda like you.”

There. It’s out, even if it’s uttered in one long word, stumbling over his own tongue, and Shane just blinks at him. There have been only so many situation that left him speechless, and this is one of them. Ryan blushes even deeper, and blabbers on, because it’s what he does. “I mean, I don’t know if I – I like you, man, but I – I haven’t even gone on a date with a guy before and I mean I’ve kissed one, but that was a dare and I was – I was, please, Shane, make me stop talking.”

Shane does, by quickly leaning forwards and pressing another quick kiss on Ryan’s lips. It’s a tiny gesture, but it is very effective. Ryan shuts his mouth.

“You’re drunk, Ryan,” Shane finally says. There’s no accusation in his voice, but there’s resignation shining through, and Ryan still feels like he’s been scolded. Shane just sounds so _sad_.

“Yeah, but still. I kinda want to – uh. I’ve never been with a guy before, but-“

Shane interrupts him by taking him by the arms, almost as if about to shake some reason into Ryan. “Stop, stop,” he says, very seriously, and Ryan gives him a confused stare. He hadn’t meant to make Shane _angry_. “Ryan, stop. We’re not gonna – we’re not doing anything tonight. You’re drunk.”

“I don’t know man. This all feels so surreal. Maybe I’m losing it.”

“You and me both, buddy.” The joke falls flat, of course it does. Ryan is way too busy worrying himself into a frenzy. He can’t really sort through the disjointed thoughts that keep flashing through his mind, but he needs to resolve the situation. My god, why had he done that-

“Shane, I’m scared – I’ve never been with-“

“Yeah, you mentioned that. It’s fine. It’s all right, Ryan. You just need to sleep this off.”

Ryan wants to protest, because his intoxication is not the underlying problem of any of this. It is a gateway that his stupid brain has decided to rely on, whilst simultaneously abandoning operation. He wants Shane to know that this is not just some drunk groping, but there is no way to put it into words. He wants to cry.

Then again, maybe sobriety will bring him an acute wish for death and an alternative reality where they’ve never had this conversation at all. Probably. Very likely. He specifically remembers deciding not to admit any sort of feelings to Shane ever. Or before he’s certain, and has made a plan at least. And knows exactly what he wants.

Well, that has gone great, has it.

***

Shane watches him deflate with an expression on his face that is too warm and soft and kind, and that Ryan does not deserve with how much of an idiot he is tonight. His hands still rest on Ryan’s shoulders, but without pressure. It’s a comforting touch, really. Ryan just groans and leans forward, wrapping his arms around Shane’s chest, his head in the crook of Shane’s neck - might as well take it while still brainless. For a moment, Shane seems surprised, but he pulls Ryan in for an embrace nonetheless.

It feels good, being held like that. It has felt good to kiss Shane, too – damn good. Still, Ryan feels like utter shit. Who knows what broken pieces he’ll have to pick up once morning and sobriety come for him.


	19. Chapter 19

Shane must have managed to put Ryan into bed last night, Ryan’s mind offers when he slowly comes to the next morning. He cannot actually remember how, but he remembers – _oh god_. He rubs both his hands through his face, groaning. He remembers pawing at Shane’s face and skin and mouth like an idiot, and he remembers kissing him – my god. _My god_ , this is a catastrophe.

The only thing that could make this any worse would be to turn around and find Shane next to him, he muses, naked and covered in love bites or something. But that’s a bit too cliché even for the horribly written plot that constitutes his life.

Of course, Shane is not beside him when he finally manages to drag his body upright and locates a hoodie.

***

Shane doesn’t look great. He sits on the couch in the living room, a brooding bundle of limbs and a sour expression on his face to go with it. Off to a great start.

“G’d morning,” Ryan croaks, hoping he doesn’t blush like some stupid teenager. Yes, he’d smooched his best friend last night, but that was something that could happen if you drank too much. All other issues aside.

Shane perks up when Ryan enters, and his face lights up a bit. “There’s coffee,” Shane says with a nod to the kitchen, and indeed, he already has a cup of the miracle potion in his hands. ”Pour yourself some salt.”

“Don’t be so-“

“If you say ‘salty’ I’ll rip out your spine.”

Ryan doesn’t want to have this conversation, he thinks as he sits down in the armchair instead of the couch, a bit of safe distance between them – maybe a kiss is a sort of deal in demon terms. Maybe he’s just made a demon angry, or been incredibly insensitive. From the looks of it, Shane doesn’t want to have this conversation, either.

“I’m sorry about last night, Shane,” Ryan finally says with his eyes on his coffee. The guy deserves an explanation. If he can come up with one, that is.

Shane’s lips twitch, but he turns his expression into a charming smile almost immediately. “Don’t be,” he says, stretching his legs out and crossing them on Ryan’s coffee table. “You were intoxicated and hey, I got some action out of it.” He winks, but it’s not the least bit convincing - maybe it would be, if he didn't keep rearranging his limbs and licking his lips absentmindedly, as he does whenever he’s nervous. “So, uhm. Made up your mind?”

It is uttered very nonchalantly, but Ryan does pick up on the question behind it. He can be dense, but not _this_ dense. Shane is offering him a way out. 

For a while, Ryan just observes the continuous movement on his couch, contemplating something he’s not awake enough to deal with – why is he turning this into such a farce; why does it have to be _Shane_ of all people... He utters the next words very carefully, and very slowly. He needs Shane to understand.

“No, I, I haven’t. I still think I like you.”

“You think.”

“Let me hedge, man. Leave me that tiny bit of my pride.” Ryan takes a sip of his coffee and burns himself on it – it’s good, something else he can stare down at very awkwardly.

“Huh,” Shane mumbles, and Ryan can see his eyebrows rising up his forehead even from the corner of his eyes. The man looks equal parts amused and bewildered, and pulls his legs under him once again. “I… I really don’t get any of this, Ryan.”

Ryan almost snaps at him. “Man, what do you want me to say? Do you need an essay on why I like you?”

Shane actually looks affronted at that, and just grinds his teeth at Ryan. “I just, he begins, grimacing. “You very clearly told me you didn’t think of me that way. And I thought-”

“I – Dude, that was ages ago, I was totally overwhelmed then and – and drunk.” He’s really not selling this. “And I, I don’t know what changed. Like you’ve always been there for me before and the only thing that’s changed is you being a demon but that’s not it- but I also thought I’d-“ _lose you._ He’s doing it again, he’s babbling - Why doesn’t he have an off-switch? “I thought you’d fuck off forever and I'm glad you didn't but I’m actually a… a bit scared.” He is so not selling this.

However incoherent that monologue has been, Shane seems somewhat appeased. His long fingers fondle the cup in his hands while he thinks and Ryan simmers on in his embarrassment.

“What are you afraid of,” Shane finally asks. His voice is much calmer now - nothing that alleviates Ryan’s embarrassment, but Shane isn’t gloating in it either. That’s something.

Ryan has already abandoned all semblance of self-worth and pride last night, so he may as well be honest. It still sounds strange in his ears. “I’m kinda afraid I’ll do something stupid and you’ll leave. Like permanently.” The words hang in the air between them for a moment, and they only hit him when he’s spoken them aloud. Because they’re so true. Without the hedging and all. It scares him more than anything.

So much for keeping his thoughts to himself. Going great.

Shane still looks somewhat torn. Unsure of where to look, he ends up looking everywhere but at Ryan. A hazy gesture to his person. “But, uhm. Not so much fear of the good ol’ demon in there?”

Ryan laughs, an actual, surprisingly throaty laugh. “Dude, I’m too busy to even think about that.”

Shane looks honestly, sincerely relieved at that, and Ryan has to remind himself that the whole revelation between them hasn’t only affected himself. He cannot even imagine guarding such a secret, and continuing that for years, in front of everyone he loves and cares about - do his parents know? - and then having it exposed against his will. At the hands of - Oh, and the burns. And... just so much of everything.

Shane rubs his hands against each other, and then on his thighs, and then jumps up. Forgoing any remnants of manners, he retrieves the complete pot of coffee, offering Ryan some, too. If they’d had breakfast with it, it could almost be domestic. Minus the fact they’re actual lovesick teens. Hot searing teens in your area dealing with and avoiding their own issues.

No breakfast though. Shane finally empties the complete pot, and burps. Ryan shoots him a grin, but it quickly dies down at Shane’s mien. “Look, Ryan. I’m gonna say this once, and I’ll never repeat it again and we’ll never speak of this again-“ This sounds suspiciously like the opening of a sermon, “I like you. A lot. I may – I mean, yeah. But don’t… please have some patience with me. I can’t really deal with you changing your mind too often. I’m not a toy.”

It is a sermon, but there’s no heat behind it, no anger. Rather, a fatigue that sounds like centuries were speaking through him. Maybe they were.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.”

Instead of breakfast, Shane locates some Doritos from beside the couch and begins to shovel them into his mouth. It’s not the most seductive thing Ryan’s ever seen, but it’s weirdly normal. It only occurs to Ryan now that Shane is ages old and has, just by probability, been hurt often.

“I mean I’m certain I like you. I want to – to kiss you and go out and all that stuff. Have movie nights and watch your stupid flicks-“

“The Hot Daga is a piece of art and I stand by that-“

“Dude, I’m trying to have a moment here!”

“Sorry,” Shane smiles goofishly, munching away at Ryan’s snack provisions. “So, you were saying? Watching masterpieces?”

“I’m not watching the Hot Daga!”

Shane laughs at his indignant tone, and so does Ryan. He can’t help it. This is among the most excruciating conversations of his life, and he’s laughing.

“But yeah, I want to do all that. I’m just a bit nervous about the – the you know. Sex stuff.” He’ll die on the spot before admitting that he’s already given this lengthy consideration. Shane’s eyebrows almost disappear beyond his hairline at that, and Ryan once again wishes the ground would open up under him and swallow him whole. End his suffering. At least Shane isn’t outright laughing at him.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re ace?” Shane honestly looks curious, and hurries to add, “Which is perfectly fine, of course. I mean – that’s good. We don’t have to do anything, you know?”

“No, I’m not. I like to… some stuff. I just don’t – uh, I, I mean, I could blow you-“ ABORT. ABORT.

It is Shane’s turn to blush, and explode into laughter that it more nervousness than anything. He should be used to Ryan not employing his brain in the speech production process, but this is something else. “Whoa there, buddy. How about you take me out for dinner first.”

“I’ve told you multiple times I want to go out, you’re just not listening,” Ryan pouts, if only to hide the fact his cheeks are turning beet-red again.

“I am. I’m just a bit… uh, it’s all a bit much.”

Ryan nods, rubbing his face again. “Can we please stop having this conversation?” People can actually die from embarrassment, can’t they? Or is that a Sims thing?

“To go out for breakfast?” Shane offers, looking hopeful. Ryan snickers. Breakfast doesn’t sound too bad. 

“I’m starving.”

***

They end up having breakfast in a quaint little café a few streets over and talk about everything and nothing in particular. Being out in public means they avoid the more perilous topics, and they always end up discussing aliens eventually. It’s just a law of nature.

“Wait,” Ryan suddenly says, mesmerised by Shane stirring his coffee. It must be cold by now, but Shane seems to be lost somewhere in his thoughts anyways. “Is this a date?”

Shane grins mischievously. “I have tricked you into countless ‘dates’ by now, tiny human. You should be used to it by now.” He takes a sip with his pinkie finger extended.

“I’m pretty certain I’d have to know it’s a – You’re an ass.”

“And a pretty fine one at that.”

Ryan shrugs, and then nods. Shane gracefully chokes on the coffee instead of a response.

“No homo though,” Ryan adds, grinning.

“That’s actually very homo of you.”

“I think I’m still a bit drunk.”

Shane just hums a little noncommittal sound, but he looks content nonetheless. The sun is finally back and the days are getting a bit brighter, and Ryan feels the same.

***

Shane still looks decidedly too smug when he drops Ryan off at his apartment, with his jacket slung over his shoulder and that pleased smile plastered all over his face. He doesn’t actually say anything, which is a rare occurrence, and leans into Ryan a bit when they stand in front of the apartment door. Ryan should be looking for his keys, but Shane so close to him is kinda distracting.

“I better get going,” Shane finally announces, and there it is again, that questioning look that Ryan has seen on his face so many weeks ago – this time, Ryan has an answer though. He quickly gets on his tiptoes and presses a quick kiss on the corner of Shane’s mouth, and it leaves Shane startled enough to make Ryan proud. Shane is still looking just as perplexed when Ryan closes the door behind him.


	20. Revelations (Fanart no content)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20! Who would've thought this little thing would turn into such a long story ( - me. I know my writing style and how awkwardly slow I can make things - for everyone of you, I am sorry). And my god, thank you for all your kind words and support and I've only learnt 'Thank you' as an expression of gratitude in school, but it doesn't cut it... I'm really thankful for every single reader, and everyone who enjoys this story and you've made my days these last weeks so much happier! Thank you so, so much!!! ✿◕ᴗ◕✿
> 
> Note: Chapter 20 - and those two idiots still haven't gotten their shit together. Relatable, isn't it.
> 
> ***

Thank you so much, everyone!!! ✿◕ᴗ◕✿


	21. Chapter 21

The next week doesn’t even remotely contain enough hours to fit in all the filming they have to do – this location is startingly beautiful and creepy, a section of an actual castle. Thornewood is barely a century old, but there’s certainly _something_ in here – whatever it is, it’s meddling with their equipment. The cameras keep shutting off by themselves. The light is turning on and off. It’s any paranormal investigator’s biggest dream, but also an absolute nightmare. If Shane hadn’t promised not to mess with their investigations anymore, Ryan could’ve sworn the whole thing was a cruel joke. The man still stubbornly refuses to comment on what may or may not be here, and Ryan jumps out of his skin about every ten minutes. They end up using a Ouija board to make things even worse, which seems about right. It’s gonna be a great episode.

(With all that stress, and the editing which will have to be done in an extraordinarily short time span this week, Ryan is too busy to think about sex of all things. About the fact that he has never even gone out with another man, and the thought of - wow. Blowjobs are probably fine; he can do that. It doesn’t look too difficult. But whenever penetration is involved – is he being homophobic? He doesn’t want to be! He cannot possibly talk to Shane – how do people ever manage to concur about such matters? The technical – no. It’s too much to think about. Just another thing he’d rather bury and never talk to anyone about. In the end, he’ll do something stupid and Shane will end up getting hurt.)

(Ryan doesn’t think about these things at all.)

All of this is Shane's fault anyways. Why does he have to be so charming, and so - and sleeping like that, spread-eagled with all his limbs outstretched and not a care in the world - and his shirt slid up his torso, exposing the skin of his stomach? Outrageous. The impertinence. Shane is dead to the world, so Ryan may as well take a look. This is all Shane's fault.

(…it’d be much easier if he’d just let Shane fuck him and do all the work. It cannot hurt that much, can it? And if it makes Shane happy – that is not the issue. The issue is that he knows, deep down in his gut, that he needs to _have_ Shane. To have him under him, and to wipe any smugness or concern or theatricality off of his face and see him for who he is just _once_ -and wanting that is a discovery that both surprises and unsettles him. It makes things just so much more difficult - How could you ever convey something like that? Bro, I think I’m okay with you fucking me but I’ve been really thirsting for your ass lately? No homo though? I also kinda faint when we kiss so what d'ya think? No. His speech-brain barrier is pretty non-existent, but it’s not that non-existent.)

(No. He’s not thinking about such matters at all.)

No sleep for tonight. And Ryan can’t remember having done so, but his sleeping bag is definitely closer to Shane’s than it was about an hour ago. He’s scared of this place and its darkness, and maybe he wants to be close to Shane. It’s ridiculous, and embarrassing, but as ever so often, neither of them actively acknowledges it. Shane seems to have awoken sometime during Ryan's contemplations, or at least his snoring has quieted down.

“The camera’s turned off,” Shane eventually mumbles from halfway under. Awake, okay. The malfunction of their equipment doesn’t freak Ryan out as much as it would otherwise – if Shane can manage to fall asleep here, imminent death is probably not staring down on them. But then again, he’d also slept in that demon house. He had been more truthful when he’d said that he slept a lot than Ryan had understood back then. Did... did demons hibernate?

Ryan huddles even closer, his face about two hands’ width from Shane’s. Shane looks only mildly surprised, his eyes blurry with sleep.

“You get off on fear, don’t you,” he states, very matter-of-factly. It’s not even an accusation, just a question.

Ryan huffs in dismay. “You think I like being here? Do I look happy to you right now?”

“Now that I think about it, that would explain a lot.”

“I’m not into you because I’m scared of you. Fuck you.“

„Maybe if you ask nicely.”

Shane chuckles at his own joke, and all Ryan can do is glare at him. That guy would probably still joke around if a catastrophic event brought around the end of humankind and all life on earth.

Shane’s smile is turning softer on his lips after a while, and he blinks a few times before mumbling, “Well, you’re still around me.”

“That’s – That’s not because I get off on being afraid! That’s because… you’re Shane.”

“Very perceptive.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to have a moment here!”

“I’m just… happy you’re still around is all,” Shane says, silently. “I honestly thought you’d never want to see me again.”

_Ooooph_. Ryan is speechless for a moment, and just stares. Shane rustles around in his sleeping bag, his cheeks turning so much darker that Ryan can even notice in the dim light. Seeing Shane so flustered is doing something to his insides. “I’m not _that_ skittish,” he protests, but his heart isn’t in it. He very much is.

No, fuck this, he is not a coward. He’ll ask. “Can I, uhm, kiss you?”

Shane blushes even deeper, for once actually speechless.

“We don’t have to, obviously. I’d just – I’d like to.” It’s true. He wants to touch Shane’s face, kiss him, devour him. He isn’t gonna jump Shane during an investigation, but the mere thought of stealing a kiss while the camera is off makes his stomach flutter with excitement.

Shane doesn’t look as excited as Ryan had hoped, and instead of just shutting Ryan up with his lips, he props himself up on one elbow and rubs his eyes.

“…why would you even want that,” he finally mumbles, and it's Ryan's turn to blush.

“Man, please don’t make me list off all the reasons I like you. That’s so cliché.”

“No, I mean – I don’t know. I’ve got some hang-ups myself, Ryan.”

“I don’t mind. Do you want to kiss me is all I’m asking.”

Shane still looks a bit rattled, and continues to just stare at Ryan with those wide eyes. Finally, he nods. He seems a bit overwhelmed at Ryan’s enthusiasm when their lips finally meet, but he just about melts into Ryan when fingers find the skin of his neck, and brush through his hair. Ryan is overwhelmed, too, but mainly because the tsunami of endorphins that rushes through his brain at hearing Shane fucking Madej _moan_ is just too much to process (He wants to hear that again). He lightly bites Shane’s lower lip, and tugs on his hair, and there it is. _Jesus Christ._ It is overwhelming, too much really, but it feels so, _so_ right. Almost like sunshine warming his skin.

***

_All of this is Shane's fault. It really is._


	22. Chapter 22

Ryan: Is Goatman a real thing?

Ryan: And bigfoot?

Ryan: And the Loch Ness monster?

Babe ♥: Why would I know all that

Babe ♥: I’m not omniscient

Ryan: Idk

Ryan: I thought maybe ur demon senses could pick up on such stuff

Babe ♥: Demon senses

Babe ♥: Don’t flatter me too much

Ryan: Goatman at least? We were there!

Babe ♥: Yeah, Goatman is real

Ryan: WHAT

Ryan: WHOOOOW BABYYY

Babe ♥: But also an idiot

Ryan: What

Babe ♥: Handing out your sigil is like publishing your number on the internet

Babe ♥: Millions of calls

Babe ♥: Idiot

Ryan: Ur sigil?

Ryan: Did u see him when we were there?

Babe ♥: Your true name. Demon thing.

Babe ♥: Nah, that guy’s pretty fed up with being called by stupid teenagers and ghosthunters. Left us on read.

_Oh great,_ Ryan thinks as he smiles at his phone. _They got ghosted by a demon._

Babe ♥: Can’t really blame him tho

Ryan: Your true name?

Ryan: WAIT so you can really summon a demon? That actually works???

Ryan: Asking for a friend

Babe ♥: Teenagers are a nightmare

Babe ♥: If you know a demon’s sigil you can initiate contact. Like a notification.

Babe ♥: Depends on the demon whether they actually show up

Babe ♥: That Goatman guy’s pretty done with that tho

Babe ♥: From what I’ve heard

Babe ♥: Ryan, you still there?

Ryan: Do you have a real name, too?

Ryan: A sigil

For more than a minute, there is no answer. The typing bubble pops up once in a while, but disappears after a few seconds. Then, the phone rings in his hand.

“Ryan,” Shane sounds as if he’d been kicked in the nuts. “This stuff is secret, I think. Sacred.”

“Oh, okay.”

“But I guess I’ve already given you my number.”

Ryan looks at the phone, honestly puzzled. _What does that even mean?_ \- He asks.

“You’re not supposed to give your sigil to anyone, Ryan. That gives them power over you.” _Oh, dramatics._

“You don’t have to-“ Ryan protests, but Shane interrupts him.

“Wherever they are in the world, whichever form they take, you’ll be able to call them-”

“Is this another rant about how frequently I bother you-“

“-and a demon’s name is a sigil. A symbol with no pronunciation.”

Shane finally pauses, and Ryan still tries to piece together where any of this is going. He’s curious, sure, but if Shane doesn’t want to disclose anything he’s not gonna pester him about it. For now.

“So, uhm, I really can’t give it to you,” Shane mumbles, and it’s for once Ryan’s turn to bite his lip and gulp that stupid laugh down. “I’m sorry. Even if I could-”

“Shane,” he interrupts him, his voice surprisingly calm. “It’s fine. It was just a question. You don’t have to tell me shit.”

There is a long pause, and Ryan wishes he could see Shane’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Shane finally repeats, almost inaudibly. “I’m just trying to make you happy.”

Oh. _Oh. What in the hell is he supposed to say to that?_ “Uh, you… you do,” Ryan admits, a bit sheepishly. “Doesn’t really matter what secrets you tell me. I just like talking to you, I guess.” Wow, he’s really putting it out there tonight. “Has that, has that actually bothered you?”

“Maybe.”

“Jesus, Shane, it’s perfectly fine not to tell me stuff you don’t want to talk about!”

“Sorry,” Shane mumbles, and Ryan cringes inwards. He hadn’t meant to _scold_ Shane. “Is this why you’re calling me?” he asks, instead of dealing with his emotions. He is an adult, yes.

“Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice?”

_Oh. Man, the guy’s really going all in tonight._

“Uhm, okay. Here’s my voice?”

“Can’t you have a normal conversation like a normal human being?”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“Ouch. At least ask me how I’m doing?” _Oooh. This is how they’re doing this?_

“Okay? How are you?” Sure. It makes sense, he just hadn’t expected Shane to be so straightforward about it. Maybe Shane was one of those people who needed some nudging before opening up about whatever burdened-

“I’m doing great, thanks. Why do you ask?”

“You’re the worst,” Ryan says, but he actually laughs through it. Shane really does the worst job at this whole pretending to be a person business.

“I can draw my name for you,” Shane suddenly rushes out, and his voice falters over it. Ryan is a bit startled.

“I don’t want it.” _That’s not the whole truth._ “I mean, I don’t want it if you don’t want me to have it.”

Silence, but he can still hear Shane’s breathing.

“What does that mean, though? That you couldn’t pronounce it?”

“That it’s not spoken in any human language. Your tongue would fall off.”

“But you can pronounce it? What would it sound like?”

Shane hesitates for a second. “A lot like… uhm. _Shain_?”

***

(There’s still something that bothers Ryan about that call when he tries to doze off later. _I just want to make you happy_. There’s so much more to these words, but his tired brain cannot make form coherent thoughts by now. You shouldn’t have relationships solely to make someone else happy. He’ll think about it once he’s awake.)


	23. Chapter 23

They get the next episode out on time as if they had actually committed to time management, which is an absurd idea. It’s the season finale and they all lose their shit afterwards – season finale translates into holidays for most of them, and besides, the new episode kicks ass. They even got something on camera, video evidence, although no one can agree on what it is. Shane says it’s a bird.

...

Reassessing his priorities seems like an appropriate thing to do, because not getting completely wasted is something Ryan is actually proud of at this point in his life. It’s probably because he’s too busy stuffing his face with some of the best albondigas he’s ever tasted, and the fact that they offer (almost) limitless dessert. Everyone is busy discussing plans for the next weeks, what relatives they’re gonna visit or what places they’re gonna see, and more than anything, that show’s finale that Ryan doesn’t watch. Shane keeps interjecting despite never having seen it either, expertly so, and the discussion soon derails to that level of intricacies that just reveals everyone’s in it because… pretentiousness. They’ve all read reviews by now.

They move on from there, to a club that plays music almost too loud to talk over, but Ryan’s too stuffed to dance much. Besides, he’s not as inebriated as he’d usually be by now and … he doesn’t want to admit it, he’s kinda occupied with watching Shane. He can’t help it, it’s akin to a car crash; horrible to witness but. But. The guy is whatever his equivalent of drunk is and waves his long limbs around next to Devon. It’s supposed to look like dancing, Ryan concludes, but it actually looks more like a slow-motion seizure. Shane shouts something at Devon that Ryan cannot make out and TJ repeats his question because Ryan hasn’t heard him. Yeah, sure. Another drink is fine.

Shane looks like one of these inflatable tube man thingies. One of the wonders of the world.

***

Shane is asleep as soon as Mark has stuffed/folded him into the Uber, and Ryan is grateful for both. He prides himself on his strength, sure, but man, Shane is one tall lanky heavy dude.

The car ride drags on for longer than usual. Ryan stares out of the window, at the rain that shouldn’t be falling at the beginning of summer, and everywhere but at Shane really. It’s probably because when awake, Shane is always babbling and distracting him. So Ryan just stares out of the window, one hand resting on Shane’s forearm, and he feels completely content.

…

In a display of super-human strength that he will mention forever, Ryan somehow manages to manoeuvre Shane’s frame up the stairs – there’s a letter lying on his door mat - and then into Shane’s apartment. He’s completely out of breath, which he will not mention, by the time he has Shane draped out across his bed. Shane’s eyelids are fluttering, but he doesn’t seem to be there. This is a weird reversal of their usual roles, Ryan thinks as he takes some deep breath and looks the guy up and down. But oh well. Shane has taken care of his wasted ass more times than Ryan could count. He’ll get him some water.

***

“I never asked for this, you know?” Shane suddenly says, in the middle of the night, although he has no way of knowing Ryan is still awake. Maybe that’s the point. “Being like this.”

“Being a demon?”

Shane presumably nods, but Ryan can’t see. “Being different.”

Shane pulls him even closer, and buries his head under Ryan’s chin, and Ryan lets him. He presses a kiss into Shane’s hair, and another one, and the guy is asleep before Ryan can muster an answer.

***

The sun warms his skin before he properly emerges from the depth of some curious dreams, and it’s such a calming sensation that he could almost go back to sleep. Ryan groans quietly, but still doesn’t open his eyes. There are fingers curled around his outstretched hand just ever so lightly. Right. Shane’s place, Shane, and for once, no hangover. He’s in Shane’s bed. He’s in Shane’s bed, beside Shane, with Shane’s fingers around his. Shane.

“Dude,” he mumbles when he finally blinks an eye open to Shane watching him intently, with his head propped on his hand. “Hella creepy. Did you watch me sleep?”

“Did you get me home?”

“No, your demon powers beamed us here. Yes, I got you home.”

For a brief moment, something like concern flickers through Shane’s eyes, but it is quickly replaced by embarrassment. “Oh,” Shane remarks eloquently. “Thanks, I guess. Did I – we didn’t-“

“Oh my god, no. No, we didn’t. I can’t believe we’re having this discussion before coffee.”

Shane still looks abashed, but he nods. For a while he just blinks, as if pondering something. “Are you okay?” he finally asks, and the softness of it takes the tension out of Ryan. There’s something bothering the guy, but it’s something stupid. He’s probably afraid Ryan’s spotted some horns or a feather or something.

“Yeah, big guy. I’m great.” _It’s still a bit odd to wake up in a bed with you_ , he thinks. _But it’s really nice_. He doesn’t say that. _And you look adorable with your hair this messy_. He doesn’t say that either. But it’s nothing but the truth. He’s feeling great.

***

“Do you have another admirer?” Ryan asks from where he’s preparing some coffee later. For a second, he wonders if he should try some salt in his, but he’s not gonna make himself throw up when he’s over at his – at Shane’s place. “There was another letter on your doorstep.”

He nods to the dresser where he’s put the envelope down last night, and Shane shuffles towards it like the sloth that he is. “ _Another_ admirer?” he repeats, and raises an eyebrow.

“I mean it’s pink. Hearts on it. If your address somehow got onto the internet, this could become an actual problem for you.”

Shane hums as he rips the letter open, and skims over it. “I’ve been getting these for a while now. Seems like some idiot got some stupid crush on me,” and after a second he adds, “I mean, I’m pretty irresistible.”

“What do they say? Do they write about the sun?” (Wheeze).

“No,” Shane says, and rips it in half.

“Whoa, dude. That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? I mean yeah, a bit creepy but someone actually put some effort into that.”

“I don’t need any love letters that aren’t from you.”

“Dude, that’s a bit… uhm. Wow. But no idea who wrote these?”

“I’d hoped they were from you,” Shane says, and actually winks.

Bro.

***

Ryan leaves shortly after coffee and impromptu breakfast, which consisted solely of bananas. Shane sees him out with an awkward smile that Ryan returns, both unsure of what to say.

“So, uhm. Not gonna see each other for a while now, huh?” Shane begins, and Ryan shrugs.

“We can still text and stuff.”

“Sure. And hey, give your family my love. Your mom tries not to show it, but she really misses you, man.”

“You’re still texting her?” That shouldn’t really surprise him, should it.

“What?” Shane responds with a smile. “She’s cool.”

“Yeah.” She is. “Same with your family. And, uhm, try not to die. With your stalker and such.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words. And I guess if I get lonely I’ll just summon you? Draw a pentagram in my parents’ backyard?” This is awkward, but he really doesn’t want to go. Sure, he’s looking forwards to his family and friends and home. But Shane will be on the other side of the country.

“I’d rather you just call me. But, uh, you can do both, if you want.”

“Take care of yourself, big guy,” Ryan says, and pulls Shane into a hug. The heat radiating off of the other body is insane.

“You too,” Shane responds, and Ryan gets on his toes to press a kiss on Shane’s lips. He doesn’t really want to go, but he doesn’t know what he’d do if he stayed.


	24. Chapter 24

The United States of America are so vast and vastly different that they actually contain different climates, and time zones, and those are facts Ryan is aware of in theory but unable to grasp in practice. For him, visiting his family requires just a (relatively) short drive, but Shane will actually spend the next few weeks at the other end of the country. Thousands of miles away. That’s more distance between them than the diameter of most European countries – hell, maybe that’s a distance larger than the whole of Europe, he doesn’t know. It’s not like he’s gonna google that when he’s behind the wheel.

But it will be fine. The closer he gets to home, and the more familiar the streets around him become, the more does he realise just how much he’s missed this place, missed home. His family. Yes, his life is great and the city is great but – man, he just wants to hug his mom.

It’s a weird thing to return to a place you’ve grown up at and where you’ve spent such a large part of your life - where you know every pebble and every dip in the floorboards and how that one door creaks when you open it. That one broken appliance that hasn’t been fixed in… longer than you are alive. Nothing ever changes at home except for the décor and the size of the plants in the garden, and it feels so normal, and it puts his heart at ease. His family is comprised of the most amazing people in the world. So amazing it actually stings.

He realises just how much he’s missed them when he finally hugs – no, his mum hugs him, and he almost tears up. Half a year is too long, and they really haven’t seen much of him lately, what with the show and his friends and drinking problem and his best friend being a demon and oh developing feelings for his best friend who is a fucking demon. He hasn’t actually given any thought to how and what he’ll tell everyone about Shane and him, so he doesn’t talk about demons and the five feet between them, but about the show and their travels, and his friends and their lives instead. It’s more than enough material even without satanic excursions.

…Also, Jake would find a way to turn that into a joke, and Ryan would never hear the end of it. It’s tremendously domestic.

***

Ryan spends his days going so every place that his parents decide he needs to see, and he’s happy for it. And the one thing that, apart from the company, makes him happier than anything is just being home and having people tend to him. He can cook (or order out, really) for himself just as well, but having someone make something for you is something you only learn to appreciate once it’s gone. And you live off of fast food and instant ramen. His mom would slap him if she knew he’d been eating that junk.

The third best thing about being free, for once, is that he finds the time to work out again – it’s not like he’s let himself go lately, but whenever things get stressful at work (or with demons), his workouts are the first thing he neglects. It feels amazing to push himself like this, to discover his limits and push past them, and a very vain part of him is too proud of himself. He’s looking good, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that as long as he doesn’t annoy other people with it, right? (Jake doesn’t count) – He’s gotta look good for the ladies. Shane crosses his mind as he musters his reflection, and his mirror image grimaces. Okay, fine. The ladies and Shane.

***

After a week, he’s already missing Shane. Which is ridiculous, because they text each other throughout the day and talk to each other almost every night like they’re lovesick – maybe they are. It’s not something Ryan would like to admit to himself, but hey, most of the calls are actually initiated by Shane, so maybe the big guy misses him, too.

As if Shane had somehow sensed being subject to his musings – _could he have? Do demons have that kind of power? Like bloody Mary_ \- a notification pops up on Ryan’s phone. Ryan blinks at the screen for a moment, perplexed. It is 3AM.

It’s a link to a video of a demon bird climbing some chapel in Italy. Windows movie maker pro.

***

“I don’t know, it’s not like we don’t talk to each other like every night. And he texts me all the time. And yet, I still – I don’t know. I just don’t wanna be clingy, but I am.”

Liz’ voice is gentle on the other side, and she sounds bemused. “Ryan, you miss him. That’s perfectly normal.”

“I don’t know. I just can’t tell him that.”

“Why not?”

_Because he’s much older than any of us could fathom and has seen some shit and I don’t want to be the one to finally break his heart and squash that enthusiasm he has for the world._

“That’s just… so gay.”

Liz actually bursts into laughter at the other end of the line. “Hey,” she gulps, “You’ve been thirsting for this guy so much even I noticed. I’m pretty sure Shane’s noticed, too.”

 _Oh god_. Okay, he has kissed him – had he been that blatant about it? How could everyone see it if could barely admit it to himself? Okay, some stuff about blowjobs -

“I don’t know. It’s just… weird when you think you’re straight for all your life and then this… idiot comes along.”

“I know, I know. Difficult to admit that maybe you’re not like you’d imagined yourself, right?. But you’re doing fine, Ryan. It doesn’t matter what label you put onto yourself or who you want to be with. It only matters that you’re happy.”

“I… I don’t know what to say. Thanks for listening to all this stuff.”

“Hey, it’s fine. Bi comrade over here. Been there, done that.” _Been thirsty for your local demon?_ Ryan thinks, but he smiles nonetheless. Briefly, he wonders how his teenage years would have been if he’d had that kind of trouble back then, and no one to talk to. Lonely, he presumes, and much, much darker.

“I’m just not…” he begins, but hesitates. Suddenly, it hits his that he can bring himself to talk about this to her because he could live with her rejecting him, or not taking him seriously. With Shane, it’s different. “I’m not sure how to go about the whole, uhm. The whole being intimate stuff, you know? Like, I know I want to, but how – I don’t think I can talk to him about it. I’d die from embarrassment. And if it’s two _men_ , how, how do they even know who… you know.”

“You’re getting too much into your head here, Ryan. First times are always a bit nerve-wracking, especially with someone who matters. But honestly? From what I’ve heard and seen you care about him and he reciprocates that. You’ll be just fine.”

_You’ll be just fine_ , Ryan repeats when he hangs up much later and realises it’s almost 4 AM. _Thirsting for your local demon._ The subtitle of their show. But damn him if it isn’t appropriate, and if he isn’t thinking about touching Shane. About how soft his skin had been under his fingers, and the stubble against his own skin when he’d kissed Shane. Man, kissing Shane. Warm lips, unruly hair. Dear god, he is so desperate to do that again.

There are thoughts that go further than that. When he should be going to sleep he wonders whether the rest of Shane’s skin is just as hot as his lips and neck were instead. It’s a giddy thought that makes his stomach churn – he wants to kiss that man, devour every inch of skin – okay stop stop stop. This is getting out of hand. When had he reverted to that hormonal, too horny for good teenager from more than a decade ago? - Is it his surroundings? And Ryan knows damn well he’ll chicken out, and yeah, the thought of touching Shane is intensely arousing but he knows he’ll panic if they ever… thank god his thoughts are his and his alone. But then again, this is what the internet is for.

_Bro, no homo, but I’ve been thinking about making you scream._

***

After two and a half weeks of sightseeing, which are admittedly amazing – he loves seeing the world, and going places, climbing mountains and losing himself in the wilderness and he loves to pretend he could go missing, running and working out, and eating so much food, and just being and _feeling_ alive – he’s just looking forward to his return. And for Shane to come back. It’s not like Ryan is desperate – he’s curious. He is an investigator after all.


	25. Chapter 25

Ryan is at the airport half an hour before Shane’s flight is scheduled to arrive, but it is delayed. By the time the plane finally touches ground, Ryan has emptied both his cup of coffee and the cup he’d brought for Shane, and feels a bit ridiculous for bringing it in the first place. It’s late, and Shane would probably want to go to sleep as soon as he got home.

The guy is visible even from a few yards away; that one head that sticks out of the crowd of people sluggishly moving along to the baggage reclaim. The colour-clashing doesn’t help.

Shane seems happy to see him, too. He pulls Ryan in for one of those long, tight hugs that they only share on very special occasions – only hindered by that giant ass plant that Shane’s carrying around. _Where does this weird plant come from? Had he sat on a plane with that fucking plant?_ Ryan is a bit overwhelmed with such open, physical display of affection, but he’s flattered, too. And when he pats Shane’s back and the guy still doesn’t let go, he decides Shane can hug him for however long he wants. Maybe the guy’s missed him, too. It’s such a comforting feeling, having Shane wrapped around him like this – minus the leaves of the plant scratching his cheek.

“What’s that?” he finally mumbles, nodding to the plant. Greetings were overrated anyways.

“I don’t know. A plant.” Great. Shane’s barely back for five minutes and Ryan could already punch him. He can hear Shane’s grin when he adds, “My mom gave it to me.”

When Shane finally pulls back and straightens his clothes, his face is flushed. “I missed you,” he admits a bit sheepishly, and it makes Ryan’s heart jump. He returns it, and Shane beams at him like he was the sun.

***

He takes Shane home. The guy barely manages to brush his teeth or stand upright, and when he crawls into bed and Ryan follows him, he receives a shaky, but grateful smile. Ryan’s not remotely tired – too much coffee - but he gladly brushes Shane’s cheek and his hair and watches him fall asleep in a matter of minutes. His skin is so strangely soft, and the crease in his forehead disappears when he finally falls under. Ryan decides he’ll just watch Shane for however long the coffee keeps him up, and decides that he’s perfectly content with that. It’s creepy to just stare at someone while they sleep, but no one would know. And in all fairness, Shane had started the creepy ‘I watched you while you slept’ in the first place.


	26. Chapter 26

Warm rays of sunshine on his face wake Ryan the next morning, although he cannot remember having fallen asleep. Shane has snuggled into him, with his head in the crook of his neck, and Ryan just about melts. The guy is still dead asleep.

The combined warmth of the sun and of Shane’s body against his makes him feel so peaceful, he could go right back to sleep. Except he can’t - he needs to pee. Fuck this. Why does this never happen in the movies?

He carefully brushes his free hand – the one Shane isn’t crushing under his body – over Shane’s shoulder and arm and back, although he doesn’t want to wake him. Shane’s eyebrows wobble a bit, but the snore continues. Fuck, he needs to get up.

It takes both skill and willpower to untangle his limbs from Shane’s, but he manages to get it done.

***

When Ryan shuffles through Shane’s living room later to procure bean juice and breakfast, there is another letter – a postcard, very much pink. He’d almost forgotten about these, but there it is, lying at the front door among the other mail that has accumulated during Shane’s absence. Shane doesn’t even read it when he comes in to sit with Ryan later, he just looks miserable and crumbles it into a ball that disappears in the pocket his hoodie.

***

“No, we’re not gonna listen to Country Roads in my car.”

“It’s not your car, Ryan. C’mon. Please?”

“It’s my car for the next 24 hours, so no.”

They go see that new horror movie that Shane has been talking about and that Ryan has been dreading and it’s horrific. Horrifically bad, too, and the amount of jumpscares is egregious. At one point he almost wraps himself around Shane’s arm beside him, but the guy just laughs at him and puts one of his hands over Ryan’s. Ryan is just a tad distracted from the rest of the film after that, and Shane falling asleep throughout and leaving him to the loud noises and jumpscares is a betrayal akin to treason. 

***

They return to Ryan’s place afterwards. Maybe they get a bit drunk, both of them. Maybe not.

Shane sprawls out over both the couch and the coffee table next to Ryan while they watch TV. Ryan, once again, finds himself distracted because his gaze keeps returning to Shane’s hand which is resting on his thigh. _Why the hell is he getting nervous about taking someone’s hand – he’s already smooched the guy, and pawed at his face like an idiot, for god’s sake!_

…Shane didn’t seem to mind any of that, though. In fact, for every little touch or gesture of affection, he seemed… almost grateful. Ryan has to see that again. Without looking at him, Ryan slowly takes Shane’s hand and weaves their fingers together, and Shane is looking at him but Ryan is very invested in whatever is on TV. After a moment, Shane returns the gesture and gently brushes his thumb over Ryan’s knuckles.

A few moments later, Ryan finally finds his voice. “I really missed you, man,” he says and he can feel his face heating up. He’s not sure why he says it, but it is true. Shane may as well know.

“Missed the good old demon?”

“No, missed Shane.” With that, Ryan finds the courage to look at Shane, and shuffle a bit closer. Their arms are completely aligned by now, and Shane’s breathing is suddenly much more audible - he knows Ryan is about to kiss him.

“Same difference,” Shane murmurs, distractedly, when Ryan cups his face in his hands and inspects his eyes carefully, but Shane only licks his lips and nods. It’s strange how much Shane still looks like a scared rabbit, but it is a nod.

The kiss is innocent enough at first, and so soft that Ryan's heart does something funny. He can feel his cheeks glowing, and he smiles into the kiss, and Shane mirrors the gesture. _Damn._ This was even better than he remembered – Shane’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek. One of his hands finds its way up Ryan’s back and finally comes to rest between Ryan’s shoulder blades, drawing him closer. _Initiative. Nice._

A gentle push against Shane’s chest, and Shane leans back as pliant as water. It feels so right to cover his body with his own, to cover Shane in kisses, his mouth, the corners of his lips, everything that Ryan can reach, really – when his lips move to Shane’s throat, it elicits a moan from Shane that goes straight to Ryan's groin. Damn, this is _good_.

For a moment, he just stops and takes in the sight. Shane is so beautifully flushed under him (Ryan probably doesn’t look much different right now), his chest heaving, and his eyes spring open to look at him, asking something. Ryan kisses him again, more desperately this time, and presses himself flush against the body under him – Shane is hard. He can feel him pressing into his hip even through the jeans, and Shane gives him a flushed smile that Ryan shushes with yet another kiss. My god, the elation. He’s half-hard himself.

When he pushes Shane’s various shirts up to expose the pale flesh underneath, Shane actually winces, and Ryan freezes with his fingers still on Shane’s stomach. “Uh, everything all right with you, big guy?”

“It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Ryan says and slowly pulls his hands back.

“Hey, I think I look swell. Could work on the abs, sure, but my legs are really nice.” _True, but not the point,_ Ryan thinks as he watches Shane lick his lips. ““’m ticklish, is all.”

“Don’t do that to me, Shane. You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

Shane’s fingers readjust his shirt, and the hoodie he’s wearing above it, and sighs. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Bit nervous is all. And – ‘t’s just - what are you doing, Ryan?”

“Man, don’t – don’t make me say it – I, I thought maybe I could make up on, you know, what I said then? That… blowjob?”

Shane gawks at him like an idiot, and Ryan can for the life of him not discern the cause of Shane’s discomfort. He’s not gonna do anything that Shane’s not into, but damn, does it dampen his mood. Had he done something wrong? Too…

Determination suddenly crosses Shane’s face, and he sits up and simply grabs Ryan’s crotch. It’s a gesture so unexpected and unceremonious and weird that Ryan actually gasps, loudly, but Shane’s already busy making quick work of his zipper and boxers. His fingers feel like fire on his skin. Shane shoots him a feverish look that is a question as much as it is an outcry and that Ryan can only answer with a nod – because words are beyond him at this point and damn, seeing Shane like that – any coherent thought abandons him when Shane wraps his lips around him and holy shit, this feels so, so damn good. Shit. Fuck. He curses under his breath and his fingers find Shane’s hair and guide him through it with appreciative noises that Shane returns, albeit a bit muffled. It’s _incredible_. There’s no way Shane hasn’t done this before, Ryan thinks, and it doesn’t matter, he thinks, and this is the greatest moment of his life. Shane deserves everything in the world and more, he thinks.

When Ryan finally comes, Shane takes in even more of him, choking a bit, and it feels overwhelming and probably robbed him of all higher brain function because even when the wave slowly passes, he cannot form any coherent words. So he just pulls Shane against him, in the tightest hug he can manage with how weak his limbs feel, and he covers Shane’s mouth with his own, too thankful and teary for words. He can taste himself on Shane’s lips, and his face looks a bit puffy, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing really matters as long as Shane has that smile on his face, the happiest he has ever seen on him.

_I love you_ , Ryan thinks. But right after receiving the best blowjob of your life is not the time for such declarations, so he mumbles, ‘Man, that was… incredible. Wow,’ instead. Shane beams at him, and goes in for a cautious kiss himself, which Ryan reciprocates. He can feel the tiredness trying to pull him under, but he’s not done. “But you haven’t – you didn’t,” he stutters, gesturing in the vague direction of Shane’s crotch and the obvious bulge there.

“It’s fine, Ryan. Really, it is.”

“Man, no,” Ryan lulls, trying to blink his eyes back open. “I want to make you happy.”

Shane gives him that smile that both says _I love you_ and _You are an utter idiot,_ and he snuggles even closer and presses his head against the side of Ryan’s neck. “You do,” he mumbles against Ryan’s skin, and Ryan’s heart makes a strange little jump. “More than you could know.”

Ryan wants to say something to that, and to ask again, wants to be attentive and loving, but he is so sated and warm and tired, he can feel himself falling asleep even as he mumbles something in response. 

Shane’s smile really is the most beautiful thing in the world.


	27. Chapter 27

Shane is not beside him when he wakes up the next morning – or rather, is crudely awoken by the ringing of his doorbell. Ryan has to blink himself awake and hurries to gather some clothes – Shane isn’t in the living room either, he realises when he scrambles to the door, and he quickly wonders if that is because of – _oh god, the blow job last night_ –

“Hi,” Shane hurries to say when Ryan opens the door and just… gawks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I just, no key, you know?“ _Yeah. They should do something about that._

Shane’s carrying that weird, tall plant in his arms. Ryan stares at it without much comprehension, really - this is the strangest thing to be awoken to. At least it’s a very colourful plant.

“I mean I just thought maybe-“

“It’s flowers after sex, Shane. Not… whatever this is.” _There, fuck you,_ Ryan's mind spouts, _he does remember that!_ \- and from Shane’s surprised laugh, he does, too.

“My mom says it’s called a crouton?”

“I really doubt that. Come in.”

Shane places the pot near the large window in the living room, and Ryan’s mind finally emerges to wonder why Shane brought a plant instead of breakfast. Brought a plant in the first place.

…

“I just, I thought it would probably do better with you.”

Ryan stares over a spoon of cereal, honest to god confused. He doesn’t own a single house plant. And it feels like there is something more to this simple gift of a plant – if Shane’s mom gave that to him – did Shane tell her – is this her blessing – is this _– oh god, is this about adopting something? Taking care of something, together?_ He’s not – he’s not remotely ready for such a conversation-

“Since you, uh, have a plant on your desk and it’s still alive?”

“That’s a fake plant, Shane. Plastic.”

Shane stirs the spoon through his cereal, looking a bit abashed. “Oh. Uh, I, I can take it back,” he mumbles, more to his breakfast than to Ryan’s face. From the looks of it, that would break his heart.

“No, it’s – it’s not a big deal just-“

“I’m not… I’m not too good at keeping living things, uh, alive, you know?”

Oh. That most definitely doesn’t sit right with him, but Ryan doesn’t even remotely have an answer for that. This is not about plants, is it.

***

The next letter comes a few days later, when Ryan is just coincidentally over at Shane’s place and Shane is out to buy groceries. Ryan still has some editing to do; he’s very busy. Ryan barely notices it. The letter continues to lie there, innocent and white this time, and it doesn’t faze him at all. It’s not only impolite to go through someone else’s mail, it is downright illegal! He shouldn’t even be thinking about it – which is good, because he doesn’t. But this is fan mail, right? This is also directed at him, in a way – okay, he’ll stop the excuses right here, because he knows they’re just that. Excuses. There’s nothing illegal about just looking at the letter from the outside, though? No return address. Why does his brain have to be so neurotically curious? He puts it on the coffee table in the living room, where it continues to sit and wait. Ryan has mails to answer, and editing to do, and decides to be productive. The letter is still there. Someone get him away from here.

> _Dearest Shane,_
> 
> _How are you doing these days? I’ve seen you at the theatre with Ryan, what a lovely surprise! Wish you had come over and said hello, or introduced me, like civilised people do._
> 
> _I must say, though, seeing the boy makes me worry. He looks tired, doesn’t he? And you, dear friend, spend your time making a love-sick fool of yourself?_

Something in the next room creaks, and Ryan just about has a heart attack. There is nothing when Ryan cautiously peeks around the corner, just the living room furniture and whatever paraphernalia Shane had left lying around. Maybe… maybe there were ghosts here, and Shane had befriended them, and they were angry at Ryan for compromising postal secrecy?

“I, uhm, if there’s anyone here, this is not-“ _Yes, this is exactly what is looks like._ He waves the letter around to the empty room, feeling stupid. “I’m just a bit curious, okay? You would be too if your boyfriend got love letters from some secret admirer.”

_Boyfriend_. For just a tiny, out-of-character moment, Ryan really, really hopes that ghosts aren’t real and no one had heard him admit that – or witnessed his cheeks heating up. But then again, if Shane later taunted him for it, that would constitute definite proof that he’s been talking to some ghosts.

> _Those pesky humans and their short life spans. Are you certain about doing this again – convinced you’re depriving him of these best years of his life, a chance at a family and friends and everything he wants? Do you want to live with such guilt, again? Could you face him, once he realises he’s wasted so much of his precious lifetime?_
> 
> _We have been through that before, you and I. But I cannot pick up the pieces again and again, there won’t be enough of you left to piece you back together eventually. Think about this, and be careful with the boy._
> 
> _Love, A._

Ryan cries. His thoughts flash through his head too fast to catch onto them, and he can barely understand why there are tears on his face, but the words hurt a lot more than they should – not only because there’s apparently yet another _demon_ around, and his mind can barely handle one (in numbers: 1) - but there are so many things there between the lines that he just cannot understand. He feels so utterly, utterly stupid. And there’ve been more letters – _did Shane read them? Who is this other – my god, yet another demon_ – and simultaneously he knows that he’s just obsessing over demon no. 2 because – because he doesn’t want to think about what demon 2.0 actually said. Wrote.

Because Ryan knows it’s true. There are things about Shane that he just cannot understand, because he is human and Shane is not and that guy seems to exist on a whole different plane of existence - and beyond that, there are more things even that Shane doesn’t tell him. And it hurts. Ryan cries, like the overwhelmed, helpless cry-baby he is. He cannot really wrap his head around Shane – Shane, who is always smiling and just a little bit shy when Ryan shows him any affection – reading this and actually contemplating such matters. Being so far away from him. It's like he suddenly realises that whilst looking at Shane all the time, he'd almost walked right into that abyss right between them - that abyss that he had barely noticed in the first place, because Ryan is about as dumb as they come and Shane is just... too...

_Okay. Okay,_ Ryan repeats in his head when he finally collects himself and transforms the letter into a ball. He’s already committed to a crime; he may as well go figure out the other thing that’s been bothering him – and he has an idea where to look. Composure, Ryan. Use your brain for once.

Yep, the crumbled ball of a letter is still in the paper bin next to Shane’s desk – either because it’s only recently been discarded or no one actually uses paper nowadays – it’s a bright, almost annoying shade of pink, otherwise Ryan probably wouldn’t even have remembered it. Reading something from someone’s trash is gradually more acceptable than – “I’m not a stalker,” he announces to the empty room. “Just taking out the trash.” He’s not a stalker. Just thorough, and attentive. An eye for details.

> _Have you told him? Have you told Ryan just what you are? Have you told him who you are, deep down? You and I both know that boy has no idea; how could he? You still don’t talk to anyone, do you?_
> 
> _We both know that everyone out there can fall in love with Shane Madej, the prankster with the fantastic stories, and the perpetual smile on his face and the great antics, who busies himself with taunting spirits and that other nonsense. Leave him that impression, and move on._

_Holy shit_. Ryan almost chokes on his tongue, and bites down on it instead. This is too…much. Just too much. The letter is thoroughly crumpled as if it had been discarded and retrieved multiple times. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the fear crystallises that Shane actually keeps some of these. _How long had he been getting them? Does he actually believe – who is A. - how dare they – they call him a boy – he can’t start beef with yet_ another _demon - how…_

By the time Ryan finally comes to some sort of resolution and retrieves his phone, he must’ve walked trenches into the floorboards of Shane’s flat. Shane won’t receive any more of these hurtful letters as long as Ryan is around.

“Liz,” he breathes when she picks up after the third or fourth ring. “I’ve got a favour to ask.”


	28. Chapter 28

Shane is such a ray of sunshine when he comes home with the groceries, with that wide smile on his face and several bags in his arms which he continues to disperse all throughout the kitchen and over the counters and idly chats about what delicacies they might be combined into… that Ryan just can’t muster the courage to ask about the letter. Letters.

Not right now. They sit in the back pocket of his jeans like a pile of bricks, but this is not the time. Ryan continues to stand there, mustering Shane. How could that guy have faced the world and everything it threw at him for centuries and now be so inappropriately excited about something as simple as dinner with him? How could that guy bear to be put down like that and still be so… so kind?

Shane isn’t only an incredible actor, Ryan thinks to himself. He’s also much stronger than Ryan’s ever given him credit for.

_A love-sick fool_ , Ryan thinks. _Pesky humans and their short life spans. Live with such guilt, again,_ Ryan thinks. _We have been through that before._ Every single sentence in those letters had been like a punch to the gut. He thinks about the large colourful plant over at his place that is definitely not called crouton.

Ryan’s resolve lasts about five minutes, all of which he spends just clenching and unclenching his jaw. When Shane finally finishes putting away the groceries and pulls out a chopping board and a knife, he finally shoots Ryan a bewildered look.

“Man, are you, are you okay?” he asks, nonchalantly, and begins to remove the peel from some onions. “You look like you’re about to cry.” _I cannot pick up the pieces again and again._

“Onions tend to do that to people.”

“I haven’t started cutting them yet though.” Shane quietly says.

_There won’t be enough of you left to piece you back together eventually._

Ryan fumbles with the hem of his shirt and the letters in his back pocket seem to become heavier with every second that ticks by. _You still don’t talk to anyone, do you?_

Fuck this, he doesn’t have it in him. He can’t keep something like this from Shane.

“What are these?” Ryan finally musters the courage to ask as he pulls the letters out of his pocket and tries to ease the creases out of them. Shane’s face falls when he recognises the envelopes, and the knife in his hands almost does, too. He quickly lowers his eyes to stare at his hands on the chopping board.

“Uhm, letters.”

“Who are they from?”

There’s a long pause. Ryan watches Shane shoot him a glance, recognise whatever in Ryan’s eyes and conclude that he already knows what’s written in them, and then he busies himself with the pot of boiling water on the stove instead of answering. Ryan watches Shane’s shoulders droop a bit. The silence makes him anxious.

“A friend.”

“That’s not – Jesus. This is not how friends talk to each other. Who does this asshole think he is?”

“Someone like me.” Yeah, Ryan had already inferred that much, and added the trivia that Shane had once mentioned most demons were bitter and… pretty much assholes. Just demon things. Still, these letters, and this thing between him and Shane…

“Yeah, I figured that out. And I get that – that you want to talk to someone who gets it, that you need some demon friends, that’s only natural-“ _Natural? Seriously, Ryan?_ “I mean, it’s fine. It’s not my place to tell you who to see and stuff. Tell – Tell me in advance though, please. I don’t think I’d survive coming home to a demon tea party or ritual or whatever. But, but these-“ He waves the letters in his hand, unsure how to continue. _Are awful? Break your heart, and mine, too?_ Shane looks as if he’s gonna be sick any moment.

“Please say something, Shane.”

“I don’t really mind them, Ryan.”

“But-“

Still not meeting his eyes, Shane mumbles, “Have you entertained the idea that I write him back?” _Oh._ No, Ryan has not entertained that idea. “We’re pretty similar, he and I.”

Ryan almost explodes at that, overwhelmed with both rage and a sudden ache in his heart – “No, no, you’re fucking not. You’re – you’re amazing, and you’d never put anyone down like that-“

“Ryan-“

“And just why does he think he knows what I want, and what’s best for me – the _audacity_ – isn’t that _my_ decision to make?”

Shane looks like Ryan had punched him instead of raising his voice, and his fingers fumble on an onion that has already lost its three outer layers. A few deep breaths manage to calm Ryan down a bit, and he’s already sorry about getting this agitated but _damn_. This is so important. Ryan against the greatest narratives of humankind.

“Do you… do you think he’s right, Shane?” he finally asks, although he fears the answer. “Do you believe what he says?”

Shane hesitates, and his tongue slips out to wet his lips. “I… don’t know,” he stutters, “There are hints of truth in everything.”

“Underwater area 51.”

“Touché.”

“But for god’s sake, Shane. I… I want to be with you, I want… this.” Ryan gestures as much as shrugs between him and Shane, trying to keep a calm face. “I won’t suddenly change my mind and regret everything we’ve had, because it’s so… so _good_ , what we have. I mean I – you’re my best friend and I love you so much, man.”

“Have I just been friend-zoned?”

Ryan rubs his hands through his face, if only to feel how heated his cheeks are (very). “You know what I mean,” he whines, and sighs. “I want to be with you. And that’s my decision. Not yours, not A.’s – what’s that even short for – A…ss. Asshole. How _dare_ he – This –“ He gestures between Shane and himself again, “whatever this is between us, it is _ours._ Just you and me. How dare he even _assume_ -“ god, he can barely catch a breath. “I mean he doesn’t even know me, and that he doesn’t know how great you are and thinks I’ll regret this-“

“Ryan, please,” Shane finally interrupts his rant, and Ryan shuts his mouth and stares at the hand Shane has raised – it’s shaking just the tiniest bit. Shit, Ryan thinks. He rarely talks himself into a fit of rage, but this – this is just so important, and so is Shane.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s just – man, no one is allowed to talk to you like this.” _Not even yourself._

Shane just nods, apparently too afraid to say something. His lower lip trembles suspiciously though. Ryan just stands there, feeling like an asshole for almost making Shane cry, because all he ever wants is for him to be happy. That guy only deserves the best in the world, and not some creepy letters from some creepy… creep, and a boyfriend he feels he cannot talk to.

The conversation is over. The onions, including the massacred one, find their way into the pan and Ryan still stands in the living room, still clenches and unclenches his hands, and finally rushes over to pull Shane into a hug. It seems to be their language when words just cannot cut it, and Shane burrows his face in Ryan’s hair, apparently thankful for the gesture. It’s a strange embrace, what with Shane still holding the knife in his hand, but it’s certainly not the weirdest situation they’ve ever found themselves in – and strange is just their thing.

“No one talks to you like that, longlegs,” Ryan muffles into the various layers over Shane’s chest, and he can feel Shane chuckle against his cheek. “You’re mine, and the only one you listen to is me.”

_Holy shit, where did that come from?_ Shane smiles, though, unfazed and goofily. “Yes, of - of course, Mr. Goldsworth.”


	29. Chapter 29

Over the next days, Ryan finds himself a bit overwhelmed with the appetite Shane’s developing for him – not his soul but, oh well, blowing him. In a way, it makes sense – from as much as he can tell, Shane hasn’t seen anyone in… who knows. Nothing serious, at last. And damn, Shane is so eager to please, and so damn good at it that is leaves Ryan with so much more yearning and heartbreak than he can deal with. Every time Ryan compliments him, or gives any indication that he enjoys what Shane’s doing, Shane explodes into that smile that should not hurt that much. Maybe it only hurts because Ryan’s read those letters.

Every kiss and gentle shoo, and affectionate touch and tug on his hair has Shane almost melt into him, and damn him if it isn’t overwhelming to have such power over another human being. Being. It’s not bad, just – just a bit much. Shane is probably a bit touch-starved is all.

Ryan is also thinking about sex – it’s easier to think about than his own mortality and the transience of things, all things but Shane – and in his defence, how could he not when Shane has those long legs and these tight jeans and that ass in that jeans… damn. He wants all of that. When exactly he had reverted into a horny, desperate teenager he cannot really tell, but awaking to these desires is like suddenly realising you’re starving. And yet. Whenever Ryan attempts to return the favour, Shane is suspiciously evasive. One time is a coincidence, two times are suspicious, when it happens for the third time Ryan realises that there’s a trend.

His mind saunters along these lines, but he’s honestly a bit too distracted to concentrate. They’re pressed up against each other right now, with Ryan kissing Shane’s throat like he’d been starving for it and his hand trailing over Shane’s hips. When he grabs Shane’s ass through the jeans, Shane moans a deep sounds that has no right to be as arousing as it is – Witchcraft. Trickery. He can see the moment Shane decides to go down on him again, but for once, his brain is halfway working and reminding him that he has a hypothesis that demands proper investigation.

For a moment, he just hesitates and watches Shane. Their eyes meet and they exchange a few blinks, both of them panting quietly. Ryan finally settles on unzipping Shane’s hoodie and getting to work on the buttons of the shirt below it – why does Shane’s only style choice have to be lesbian matryoshka doll of all things?

When he finally gets the last button open and can let his fingers roam about the heated skin without any offensive clothing Shane’s trembling under his hands. Ryan looks up, confused, and stills. Shane’s eyes are fully open for once, watching him intently, and he’s just quietly breathing and staring into Ryan’s soul. _Something’s not right here._

“Shane?”

Shane smiles, but it’s a shaky thing that doesn’t look right on his lips. “It’s – sorry.”

“Hey,” Ryan mumbles, and pulls his hands off of Shane. He wants to pet Shane’s thigh instead, be supportive, but Shane actually looks like he’s gonna be sick if Ryan touches him again. It’s hard not to be offended by that, but that doesn’t really matter in this moment. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

It’d probably be the best to remove himself from in between Shane’s legs – Ryan sits up on his heels properly, trying not to look as abashed as he feels. He finally shuffles around the bed to lie down next to Shane and props up his head on his hand.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Shane?” he repeats, quietly. “Did I do something-“

“I- I can’t, Ryan,” Shane whispers, his voice and eyes pleading for something that Ryan cannot understand. “It’s just – it won’t work.”

“What do you mean it won’t work? I get the basics! And it doesn’t sound too complicated-“

“Ryan, please shut up. I know the, the theory behind it-“

A metaphorical lightbulb turns on above Ryan’s head and he gawks at Shane. “Oh my god," he whispers in that ridiculous, too high-pitched voice, "have you – don’t tell me you’ve never been with a guy-“

“Fuck you, Ryan. I’ve had – I’ve been with people. It’s just… it’s a bit difficult.”

Ryan starts opening his mouth before he knows what he wants to say, because it’s what he does. “You’re not… wait, does your dick have horns? Is it that?” This is the absolute worst moment in human history - scratch that, history - to laugh, but Ryan can’t help it. Shane crosses his arms, and leans back with a sour look on his face.

“What if I told you it did?”

“I’d say I top then.” _Smug_ , he congratulates himself, and Shane grimaces.

“You are absolutely disgusting. I never want to see you again.”

“Fine with me. Door’s over there.”

“This is my apartment.”

Shane stares on for quite a while, pondering who knows what. Ryan finally decides to try for a truce, and cautiously brushes his fingers over Shane’s lower arm, in what he hopes is perceived as a sign of peace. Sometimes it is so easy to forget that Shane might not be as strong as he always acts, he thinks. Everyone has limits, even Shane.

“It doesn’t have horns,” Shane finally pouts, and Ryan tries desperately to suppress that snicker – because if he now laughs, again, Shane will surely punch him in the face. “It’s just that – being a demon, you know, makes matters kinda, ah, difficult - complicated. We’re not meant to meddle with humans like this – I mean, this is where demons came from in the first place.”

_Okay, slow the fuck down._ “What?”

Shane finally gives in to Ryan’s peace offer. He sits up against the headboard with a groan and pulls Ryan towards him, in what Ryan suspects is as much an attempt to find physical comfort as hide his face. He lets him.

After some moment of silence, he finally says, “I, I can tell you how the first demons came to be. I don’t think it’s a spoiler if it’s already written down.”

Ryan perks up - that guy definitely knows how to get his attention. “Hit me.”

“Funny that you’d say that; your face screams that constantly.”

“Shane, let us have this moment.”

Shane shrugs, but one of his hands comes to rest over Ryan’s. His skin is still so warm.

“Do you know the Ancient Jewish book of Enoch?” Ryan shakes his head, a bit distracted by Shane’s fingers wrapping around his. “It’s a book. It’s ancient. And it’s Jewish.”

“Thanks.”

“There’s this one story in it, it reads like a soap opera. God sends these 200 angels to earth because he wants them to watch over some humans and live amongst them and such. And the humans get really comfortable around them, eh, and start calling the angels ‘watchers’ because they know they’re only there to protect them-“

“Wait, ‘watcher’? Like that episode we did?”

“Yeah, just without the creepy stalking. As far as I know, that is – it’s, it’s an old book.”

Ryan is still staring down at Shane’s hand, at the long fingers caressing his own.

“Anyways, the people start getting really comfortable around those angels, too cosy, and you know, stuff happens and, uh, they fuck. Didn’t do too much of a good job there, committing sin and stuff, and they, they were cursed by God.”

“That’s – wait, for real?”

“I don’t know, Ryan,” Shane groans, tightening his grip around Ryan’s hand. “It’s not like I was there - that was ages ago. Old books tend to overdo it with the judgment and the mysticism, too. And – and the translation issues.”

Ryan blinks a bit sluggishly, but nods. “How do you even know that story?” he asks, and Shane grimaces.

“I’ve heard it from – from someone like me,” he finally mumbles, grudgingly so.

“You know others? Besides, uh, A-hole?” Ryan perks up at that, and tries to get a look at Shane’s face, which he instantly regrets. Shane looks like he’d been hit in the head and he could swear – yes, his eyes are definitely a bit darker than usual.

“Some, uh,” Shane shudders, and pulls Ryan back against himself, thus obstructing his view. “Some here and there. Demons aren’t very sociable creatures, believe it or not.”

“You’re not a real good demon, are you?” Ryan chuckles, and some of the tension in Shane’s body seems to dissipate at that sound. Shane’s fingers find his neck again, and he caresses it slowly, which makes Ryan shiver in return.

“I think I fit the role quite well. Being tempted by a human and all.”

That is almost certainly – that is flattery, and Ryan is too stunned by it to retort. His mouth smiles almost reflexively and something in his chest hurts, and he strokes his thumb over Shane’s knuckles. _That’s actually a really nice thing to say_. He might as well rub it in.

“You’re tempted by me?” he repeats, with that same shit-eating grin that Shane usually wears.

“Shut up, Ryan.”

“You’re-“

“Shush.”

“Don’t – shush me! What was that story even? Foreplay?” Ryan laughs. “Shane, I don’t know how often I have to repeat it, I don’t get off on being scared!”

“It was an explanation,” Shane shoots back, too forceful and too miserable all of a sudden. “I said they were cursed. Demons are cursed creatures, Ryan.”

That… kinda dampens the mood. Like Ryan doesn’t have an answer to that so all he can do is sit there, and hold Shane’s hand, and look stupid. He recalls the letters, and he recalls _There won’t be enough of you left to piece you back together eventually._ He eventually yields to just how tired his body suddenly feels, and lets his head rest on Shane’s shoulder. The grip on his hand is too tight for comfort, almost bruising, but Ryan doesn’t mind.

Shane speaks again, although it is muffled into Ryan’s hair so he can barely make out the words. “It’s a punishment,” he breathes. “Being different. Being… like this." He still hesitates, and Ryan is about to say something about the bones in his fingers getting crushed. _Being alone._ Shane doesn’t even have to say it out loud, it is right there. Ryan wants to object that Shane can talk to him, and that he’ll at least try to understand – no promises. And that he loves Shane, very much.

“I, uh, for what it’s worth-” he stutters, and for once he’s happy that their odd position means Shane cannot witness him blushing either. “I’ll try to do that – I mean, I’m a bit dense but if you’re patient with me…?” He trails off, not sure how to continue. He even dares to move Shane’s hand towards his mouth and presses a quick kiss onto it. Shane chuckles, but it may just as well be a sob.

“You’re just… the strangest little human. A ghost hunter who’s afraid of the things he hunts.”

“I do _not_ get off on fear.”

“You tell yourself that.”

“Did they at least get to be with the humans they fell for?”

“What?”

“Those – I mean if those angels loved the humans so much that they fell from grace for them, and they become cursed just for them, don’t they at least … I don’t know, deserve to be happy with them?”

For a while, Shane’s fingers on Ryan’s skin are their only conversation because apparently, Shane doesn’t really know what to say. “Don’t know,” he finally admits. “Never thought about it. Maybe they were just horny.”

“Horny?” he chuckles and Shane hums. “So demons can actually love?”

“I take personal offence at that,” Shane protests, and lightly swats at the back of Ryan’s head. “Yeah, it’s said to happen. ‘t’s a pain. Very intense on the punishment part.”

“I don’t – I’ve never thought about that, to be honest. I just learned that demons were the embodiment of evil.”

“That’s part of the lore, babe. And a lot of demons are, uhm, kinda evil. Very bitter, I think.”

“The whole thing sounds stupid to me though. I mean, they fell in love with some humans, boohoo. How can that be a sin.”

“It’s just a story, Ryan.”

“Is that the hang-ups you were talking about? Being… different?” _Strange and off-putting_ , his mind supplies, unhelpfully so.

“Yeah, kinda. It really ruins the mood and your enthusiasm for the whole business if banging someone ends with them losing their fucking mind.”

“That – that,” Ryan spurts out, and his stomach does something weird. “That could happen?” Shane shifts a bit to inspect Ryan’s face, and Ryan knows he looks horrified, he can’t help it. _Do people go insane because… it’s so good? Because demons grow horns whilst doing it? Do they get distracted by the mouth-watering smell of a human soul, Twilight-style?_

Shane looks at him like he’s an idiot which, to be fair, he is. “People were very fanatic about all of this stuff, Ryan. Bibles, and rosaries and the selling of indulgences, you know? Imagine the shock of seeing me for the first time, with the horns and those eyes and everything and that just - just in the middle of, you know, while doing it-“

“Yeah, I- I think I get it,” Ryan hurries to say with a nervous wave of his free hand. His brain is lagging, again, only partially processing all of that information. He needs some sleep, and a break. “I haven’t, though.”

“Huh?”

“I haven’t really – seen you. I mean it was super dark and I’m still 50% sure I was tripping balls.”

“And I’d prefer it to stay that way.”

Ryan wants to protest, he really does. But Shane sounds about as tired of this conversation as Ryan feels, and he finally slides down into the horizontal. Given, his head is still on Shane’s thigh, and Shane’s fingers now busy themselves with Ryan’s hair – it’s nice. Peaceful. Very sleep-inducing. After a while, Shane gently lifts his head to lie down next to Ryan instead, and Ryan pulls him in for an awkward hug that is too many too long limbs, but eventually settles into something that feels right.

“I’m not afraid, though,” he finally mumbles against Shane’s collar bones. “of seeing you.”

“You’re gonna shit yourself.”

“No, I’m serious. I can handle it.”

Shane ruffles his hair, and presses a kiss on the top of his head. “What a brave little ghosthunter.”


	30. Chapter 30

Shane takes care of the large, colourful plant over at Ryan’s place with surprising dedication – Ryan hadn’t taken him for a botany person really, since there had never been a single plant at Shane’s place for as long as he’s known the guy. But Shane busies himself with buying special soil that is apparently especially rich in minerals and nutrients and stuff – Ryan watches Shane pour the glorified dirt into the pot and thinks to himself that the guy should invest in proper nutrition for himself instead. But he also watches that content, peaceful smile spread out over Shane’s face whilst meddling with the plant, and Ryan decides not to taunt him for it.

To be honest, he’s often thought that maybe a monster plant would add some charm to his apartment.

***

The plant’s name is _Monstera_ , the internet tells him. But _monster plant_ is just so much cooler as a name, and very on-brand, isn’t it.

***

Liz’ girlfriend – acquaintance – crush? – he should have asked about the precise nature of their relationship before agreeing to this meeting in the first place – Emma is not at all how Ryan had imagined her. She’s about the tallest person he’s ever seen (besides his tall cryptid at home) and sports gravity-defying curly hair and so many freckles she looks almost like a painting. She outright laughs at him when he approaches, and he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment – his incognito look turned out more like a remix of C.C. Tinsley and eye cancer. Liz is smiling next to her, and nods a greeting.

“Hi, uhm, I’m Ryan. Nice to meet you.” At least she deigns him worthy of returning his handshake, but she’s still snickering. Liz only wriggles her eyebrows over her Frappuccino.

“So, uh,” Ryan lowers his sunglasses, because they are inside of the café and he cannot see shit. “What d’ya got for me?”

“Ryan, was this detective makeup really necessary?”

“Hey, this is borderline illegal, and I don’t want anyone to recognise me!”

“Yeah, because no one will take notice of a guy wearing a trench coat and sunglasses in the middle of summer – inside -“

“It’s not stalking if you’re a private detective,” Emma interjects, and Ryan raises his eyebrows at her. From what Liz has told him, she was a barista with too much book knowledge and not -

“You’re a private detective?”

“No.”

“So this is outright stalking,” Ryan concludes with another inconspicuous glance around, but no one pays them any special attention. It’s a busy mid-morning anyways, and most people are solely focussed on getting their intake of caffeine. Ryan orders one, too.

“So? You said you’ve… got something?”

“My god, you make it sound like we’re dealing meth.” Another panicked look around.

“’kay, kids,” Emma finally interrupts their bickering. “Your guy. Weird guy.”

_Which one?_ Ryan thinks to himself.

“We’ve followed him for a while, and he, lemme tell you, I think he’s like some kind of millionaire? We followed him to this house-“ _Yep, this is text-book stalking. Why is no one around them even remotely outraged by this?_ “and wow. My associate got a name and a number for you. The name, though? Pretty sure it’s false. According to the records, he’s been living there for about 60 years, too, which cannot be true.”

“Yeah, weird,” Ryan lies, and Liz adds a conspiratorial “Family money?”

“So before I betroth you with this knowledge, lemme ask you something.”

A pregnant pause that makes Ryan squirm. He’s been pretty vague about what all of this was about, and about Shane – _how much did those two – what if they found out – it really wasn’t his place to give any of Shane’s secrets away -_

“…Are you getting yourself involved with the mob?”

Ryan just stares, and then laughs a small, relieves sigh. He shakes his head.

“Okay, because if you find decapitated animals around your property? I never knew you, right?”

“Yeah, right.”

“And you’re paying for this dinner. This excursion of ours took more hours than I expected-“

“Hey,” Liz interrupts her, puffing up her cheeks. “That wasn’t wasted time -that, that was still a date!”

“Shhhh, honey, please. I want him to owe us a favour for – to pay for our lunch-“

“He already owes me for my constant support and bisexual guidance!”

“Yeah, I, uh, I do,” Ryan admits, a bit abashed. Liz shoves a letter over the table with her mimics so exaggerated even Ryan can tell that she’s mocking him. He puts it in the pocket of his coat – too hot, and still no one gives a shit, and Emma smiles an outright devilish smile. “So,” she says, light-heartedly. “Heard you were talking about lunch?”

…

“I’ve – I’ve also got a few questions about plants.”

“Is that a metaphor?”

“Not sure, really. Maybe?”

***

Shane’s quiet moans really are the most arousing thing in the world. Ryan barely knows what he’s doing, what with his mind completely flatlining and abandoning him to sheer excitement – Shane’s squirming under him, moaning these sweet little sounds as Ryan covers his neck with greedy kisses – this is so, so – he doesn’t have any words for it. Shane is hard against him, and so is Ryan, and he grinds his crotch down against Shane which rewards him with yet another, louder moan. _More_. His fingers travel down and find the hem of Shane’s boxers, and Shane’s spine bends so much it almost looks like he’s gonna snap in half.

Somehow, miraculously, he manages to get Shane out of his jeans and boxers and disposes of his own without falling unconscious. For a moment, he just stops to marvel at how - beautiful - Shane looks at that moment, his face flushed and his mouth slightly agape – but only a moment. Ryan presses himself against Shane again, without any layers between them now, and watches Shane shudder. The grinding has been going on for a while now, and every kiss and every moan makes it worse, makes him want – need more – Shane rasps his name, and it almost is too much for Ryan.

“Ryan,” Shane repeats, his fingers digging into Ryan’s biceps so hard it hurts. His thighs are shaking. “Oh, oh god.”

“Shane, you – you don’t know how good that feels-“

“Yeah, I – I do, kinda right there, buddy. But, ah, slow – slow down.”

Ryan complies, and rolls his hips over Shane’s much slower, if with more pressure. Just the feeling of skin on skin, and damn, Shane so hard against his own – can – can he… his hand reaches down and he takes hold of both of them, pressing them together – god, Shane looks like his soul is about to leave his body.

“You tell me if I do something wrong, okay,” Ryan whispers as he starts to move in a way that feels just about right – _Jesus Christ_ , if this feels even half as good for Shane –

“No – no, that feels – ah, amazing,” Shane chokes out and jerks into Ryan’s grip. “But – god, if you don’t stop I’ll – I’m, I'm gonna-“

“Yeah, me too, buddy. It’s all – all right-“

“No, I mean – God, fuck!”

It’s probably an immense compliment that he can make a demon worship god, but Ryan does not have the brain capacity to ponder on that right now. He’s so close –

“Please,” Shane whimpers under him, straining his back and opening his legs even wider. “Ryan, please-“

“Please what?”

“Please c-close your, ah, close your eyes?”

Ryan stops, and just blinks a confused question that he doesn’t have the breath to voice. It didn’t seem possible a second ago, but Shane blushes even deeper and brings up a shaky hand to rub at his eyes. He nods. “Please, Ryan, for – for me?”

Ryan still stares, and tries his very best not to be insulted – but Shane looks so desperate that he finally complies. He presses his eyes shut and buries his head between Shane’s neck and shoulder, biting at the skin there. Shane’s panting under him, so, so close – “Oh god, Ryan-“

With a groan that sounds like utter bliss and agony at once, Shane finally jerks up under him, coming all over Ryan’s hand and the feeling of Shane crushing his arms and his long limbs around him shivering and the _sound_ of it is just too much and takes Ryan over the edge with him. He comes so hard it drives the breath from his lungs, and he has to gasp for air once the wave abides – Shane’s heart is still fluttering in his ribcage against his skin, like a caged bird, and he pulls him even closer with hands that shake just a tad too much.

Well, that was… something, Ryan thinks, still feeling blissfully boneless. And yet… he just wishes he could’ve seen Shane’s face when he came – in this intimate an act just not seeing him left him feeling strangely… bereft. And it hurt more than he cared to admit that Shane still thought – still thought…

Ryan finally assembles control over his limbs enough to roll off of Shane and look at him – his mind starts its blaring again, but not as loud as in the demon house. Shane looks back at him like a deer in the headlights again, and Ryan wonders how he can read an expression out of eyes that are completely black. Shane stares at him, barely breathing, and Ryan stares back and finally realises that Shane’s asking something. This is - this is an important moment. He quickly leans forwards and presses a careful kiss on Shane’s chin.

“Looks pretty rad,” Ryan mumbles, and Shane’s cheek twitches into something that could almost be a smile.

“Rad,” he repeats, tiredly, and pushes a strand of hair out of Ryan’s face. The white of his eyes almost bleeds back in - and Ryan cannot help but think of pouring milk into coffee because he’s never been great with metaphors – until he’s staring at the brown ones he’s known for years.

“Can you change that at will?”

“Hmm…” Shane slurs and lazily brushes a hand over Ryan’s shoulder. “Bit like sucking in your stomach, or breathing really hard, you know? Don’t think about it really until… uh, you sneeze or something.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Nah.”

Shane closes his eyes, very much to Ryan’s dismay. He wants to inspect Shane all around, to discern any traces of whatever transformation may have taken place there – but at the same time he's aware that would break this quiet sense of peace between them. He’s an investigator, sure, but he also loves Shane. And, much more urgently, he can feel the drowsiness washing over him, trying to pull him under, the post-orgasmic haze coupled with the warmth of Shane’s skin – there’s still this mess between them, though. Shane’s embrace around him is like an iron claw, so Ryan reaches for some tissues from the nightstand and takes care of it as thoroughly as he can manage for not – Shane gives a disgruntled wince in protest. They’ll shower later, for now… sleep. Shane is already snoring quietly when Ryan puts his head back onto his chest. The sound is strangely soothing.


	31. Chapter 31

Because all good things must come to an end, their holidays do, too. Ryan decides to take Shane out for dinner on their last free evening, because he has found himself a new quest. Fuck those mean letters, really, and fuck what they did with Shane’s head and what they made him think Ryan wanted from all of this –

Ryan will take Shane out, and he’ll surprise Shane with how charming and witty he can be and he will take him home and kiss every inch of his him and then – yes, he’ll seduce him and he will sleep with him and show him that no matter what Shane looks like or what colour his eyes or skin turn or how long his limbs are – horns -, Ryan still wants all of it.

And he’ll make it good. The thought of Shane panting and squirming, and the bliss he’ll have on his face, it makes Ryan’s insides twitch. He’ll make Shane happy.

And he really wants all of that. More than anything. Maybe Ricky Goldsworth isn’t completely a bit.

…maybe he is, though. Ricky Goldsworth would never spend more than ten minutes worrying about appropriate attire. _Top or Shirt? Is a shirt too formal? A top would show off his arms – no, fancy restaurant. Is a suit too much? Then again, it’s so cold that he’ll die with just a shirt on –_ yada yada. Ryan’s always been very conscious of his clothing choices and how he looks and does his hair – that's bound to happen when your appearance is routinely recorded on camera - but today he actually cares. He wants to look so good that he sweeps Shane right off of his feet. His final choice lands on a black suit but without the tie and with the upper buttons undone – _to make it appear carelessly casual_. His hair – _what is he gonna do with – and cologne?_

Ryan: What do you think, Liz?

Ryan: [picture attached]

Ryan: I want to look good but not like I’m trying too hard?

Ryan: And the hair?

Ryan: URGENT

Ryan: [Picture attached]

Ryan: [Picture attached]

For a moment, he hesitates over his various toiletries. It feels – like even bringing a condom is so much commitment, but then again – he won’t use it if the situation doesn’t go as planned – and most of the times they don’t, with Shane. And it’s not Ryan’s commitment that’s the issue, is it. It’s better to have one anyway, Ryan thinks. Better safe than sorry. Wrap it before you tap it and such.

He thinks about bringing lube, too – he even has bought some, because he has done his research and the last thing he’d want is to end up hurting Shane. He thinks about preparing Shane – and he just… wants Shane to let go of that composure he always radiates. He needs Shane to moan with pleasure, and to completely give in to just how good Ryan can make him feel. Fuck.

Liz: Looking great!!!

Liz: Just go with your gut and don’t worry too much!

Liz: You’ll be just fine! XOXO

How he could’ve reached his 29th year of life and still get nervous about a date is beyond him. Because it’s with someone who matters, he recalls Liz saying when he styles his hair this way and that way. Because Shane matters. Damn well, he does.

***

He needn’t have bothered with his hair, Ryan grumbles when he gets into the car. All hell broke loose about an hour ago – somewhere in there is a pun, but he’s too nervous to ponder it – and the rain is still pouring down and ruining his efforts. How very appropriate.

Shane just stares at him when he opens the door, mouth agape. It’s so rare to see the guy speechless that pride wells up in Ryan’s chest, and he gives Shane a wide smile and pulls him in for a kiss with both hands on the taller man’s face.

That man is still speechless when Ryan releases his lips and continues his teeth-commercial of a smile. “…Woah,” he finally mumbles, a bit out of it. “I didn’t think I’d be going out with Ricky Goldsworth.”

“Get your butt in the car, longlegs. Now.” Ryan wriggles his eyebrows, and walks to the car as casually and cool and chill as he can – which is no easy task with how much of a swing is in his steps.


	32. Chapter 32

Shane just looks stunning today, Ryan thinks as he babbles on about nothing in particular. His brain is a bit preoccupied with processing the fact that he’s taking Shane out on a date, and that it’s going great and that Shane is smiling like Ryan was the sun – not the actual sun, he doesn’t squint like he’d been blinded – but Shane looks at him like Ryan matters, and it makes Ryan’s heart hurt with fondness. There are thoughts about later, too, and about the myriad of questions he still has, but he doesn’t want to bother the guy with such matters today – so he talks about his life, most of which Shane already knows, and about embarrassing childhood stories and the embarrassing stories he added these holidays, and Liz’ crush on the Starbucks barista that she’s pretty much dating already and that sounds like fanfiction, and and and. Shane looks very thankful that Ryan talks like a waterfall, and his face is just the tiniest bit red. Might as well be the wine.

Ryan does not drink today, because he’ll drive later and he’s a responsible adult – in such matters, at least. And he wouldn’t want to rely on Shane taking care of his wasted ass again. Tonight he’ll be the one to take care of Shane for once.

…That sounded dirtier than it was intended, and he gracefully chokes on his non-alcoholic beverage. _Taking care of Shane's ass? Why does his brain have to be like that?_

Finally, finally Ryan notices that Shane hasn’t said a word in about 5 minutes, most likely because he couldn’t get a word in. He brushes a hand through his hair – shit – and gives an embarrassed grin. “Uhm, sorry for talking so much. Bit nervous, I guess. I haven’t been on a date in-“ _Oh no_ ”-a while.” _Phew. Great save, dude._

Shane still smiles that kind smile that makes his face look much softer, and younger at that. “I like listening to you,” he mutters, and the tips of his ears turn a bit pink. “I mean, as long as it’s not in your theory voice. And not about underwater Area 51.”

Ryan laughs, and Shane’s smile widens in return. He looks genuinely happy, so Ryan is probably really just talking too much – Shane isn’t looking around in silent pleas for help, he doesn’t excuse himself to escape through a bathroom window, all he does is stare at Ryan as if the ridiculous nonsense he’s blabbering entailed all the secrets of the universe.

***

When they’ve finished dinner and order dessert, and Shane cautiously hooks one of his ankles between his, Ryan cannot bear Shane’s silence any longer – although he has thoroughly dissected and explained it. “Shane,” he says, a bit too urgently maybe, “Are you – are you doing okay?” _Bad hotdogs?_

Shane blinks one, two times, and then stares down at his dessert as if he wanted to telepathically set it aflame. It’s ice cream. “I, uh – ‘t all seems a bit surreal,” he finally mumbles. “And it’s been, ha, a – a while since my last date, too.” He laughs a little, awkward laugh, but the one Ryan returns is one of relief.

“Oh, I don’t mind. We can have more so you get used to them.” _Smug._

“So this is just practice to you,” that demon asshole shoots back with a mischievous smile.

“Yeah, this is – yeah. Welcome to your lesson. Name’s, uhm, Ricky, nice to meet you.”

Shane actually reaches across the table – okay? – and takes Ryan’s hand to shake it in a firm handshake. “Pleasure, Ricky. I’m C.C.”

“That’s not a name.”

“It is. It’s my name.”

“Okay, C.C. How do you wanna do this? Cards on the table, I’m not here to waste my time.” It’s just a tad strange that they spontaneously started this gig, but then again – their affiliation with weirdness and Ricky being a much more real part of him than he cares to admit... Thank god he ended up wearing his suit this evening and not a baseball shirt.

“Oh, I’m not looking for a one-night stand, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Suddenly, there is a change in Ryan’s face that makes Shane’s fall in return. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Stop playing games with me, longlegs.”

Shane nods, and actually manages to look intrigued. “Yes, sure. I’m, uh. I…”

“Spit it out, I don’t have all day.”

“I’m just here to please you, Mr. Goldsworth,” Shane rushes out, and immediately shuts his mouth and turns red. Ryan carefully raises a single eyebrow and musters an immense amount of effort and willpower to keep his face straight. Well, as straight as he can manage on a date with another man.

“Damn right you are. I’m glad we have an understanding.”

The silence and the unwavering stare from Shane continue for so long that Ryan starts to grow anxious. There is something there, on his face, something he’s always pondering but never saying when they get close. He finally rubs the side of his neck, and sighs, and pushes out, “Ricky, there’s – there’s something you should know.”

“Well, I’m waiting?”

“I’m a- a bit much. And I’m also a demon.”

_Oh wow. So they’re having this conversation now. In the middle of a restaurant._

“What about it? What does that mean for me?” Kudos to himself for actually keeping his cool – well, on the outside, that is - and keeping up this act although he is fairly certain that it’s not an act on Shane’s side. Maybe the guy actually needs to be both tipsy and talking to Ricky Goldsworth to get this off of his chest – whatever _this_ is.

“I mean I’m… a lot of work. I can’t – I don’t mean to be an inconvenience to you, Ryan. I really don’t. I don’t mean to scare you and I didn’t even want you to know, ever, and I’m – I’m just a bit much once you get to know me.”

_I’ve known you for years_ , Ryan almost says, almost hurt. _Are they still keeping up with the act?_ “Doesn’t matter, longlegs. That’s not really your decision to make. If I decide you’re worth my time – I want all of you.”

Shane looks both intrigued and surprised, and his fingers tremble on the glass in his hands. He looks down at it. “Maybe your – your investment isn’t warranted. Maybe you’ll end up regretting - wasting your time. On me.” _Oh. Those fucking letters. Investment._ Ryan turns that statement over in his mind, this way and that way – economics – but from how quickly the colour drains from Shane’s face, he needs to hurry with an answer. Shane’s vulnerable honesty had a limit to it, and this was it.

“How about you let me decide whether or not I want to be with you,” he ends up saying, unsure of whether this is Ricky or Ryan speaking. Both, probably. “It’s my time, my decision. If I decide I want to have you, your ass is all mine, C.C.”

_Oops, definitely Ricky_. Shane still sports that mixture of surprise and astonishment on his face, but his lower lip trembles and so do the corners of Ryan’s mouth, and finally both of them erupt into laughter. The noise is met with some irritated glances from other diners here and there, but neither of them can be bothered to care – when Shane’s laughing, Ryan thinks, it almost feels like the two of them are the only people in the world.

The whole Ricky Goldsworth bit is – well, just that, just a bit that they don’t bring up after that, but it’s definitely piqued Ryan’s interest. It was a bit, yes, but Shane had looked… invested. _I’m just trying to make you happy_ , he remembers. But for now, the only thing that matters is that Shane is smiling.

Conversation flows much more freely after that. Ryan is immensely pleased with Shane brightening up even more and talking – yes, talking about those dancing people, but also about the places he still wants to visit and the places he’s seen (Ryan doesn’t ask when), and his mom’s birthday that is just around the corner and that strange cat that has been coming to his house lately. Plant trivia, lots of it. Maybe some of his confidence is a bit, too, with how much he opens up when Ryan prods him.

When they sit in the car later, Shane with his legs folded up in the passenger seat and warm summer rain streaming down the windows, Ryan cannot help but feel at home. It’s not the food they ate, although the apple crumble they had is his mom’s favourite dessert, and it’s not the fact that it’s raining or that they’ve driven thousands of miles beside each other by now. It’s Shane, simple as that.

***

When they get home, Shane sways a bit and looks as if he’s about to be sick – he quickly excuses himself and hurries into his bedroom, and leaves Ryan to stand awkwardly in the living room. Maybe Shane was drunker than he’d realised, or maybe the whole bit was just a tad overwhelming for him – Ryan busies himself with getting a glass of water and putting his stuff away for a while, and then he heads towards the bedroom. He can deal with demons, for god’s sake, he can deal with a drunk demon, too.

Shane is curled into a ball on his bed, with his knees to his chest and his face turned away from the door. The lights are still turned off. Ryan stands in the doorway for a moment, still feeling awkward and out of place here, and then goes to set the glass of water down on the nightstand – Shane doesn’t look like he’s about to throw up anymore, Ryan notes, but he’s looking utterly miserable. He cautiously sits down next to the cryptid, whose eyes are wide open but unseeing.

“Shane? Are you… okay?” Ryan finally asks, and carefully brushes a hand over Shane’s arm. The touch is rewarded with a sluggish movement of Shane’s limbs that is going nowhere and is disconcertingly slow. Ryan winces. “Dude, have you been crying?”

Shane shakes his head, lethargically, but Ryan cannot help but notice the red tint in and around his eyes. It looks like he barely has the power to move, so he just lies there and stares ahead and Ryan sits next to him, absolutely helpless. When Shane finally opens his mouth, Ryan knowns – he knows with absolute certainty that Shane will ask him to leave because he is witnessing something he could not understand, and he hurries to interrupt Shane before he can be ushered out. Maybe he is not as qualified to deal with demons as his mind had proclaimed a few minutes ago, but hell, he’s gonna try.

“The date that bad, huh?” he ends up saying, because quick, witty and thoughtful is just not what his brain is capable of. He just can’t have Shane send him away. Not now when he’s so… breakable.

“No,” Shane rasps, and he finally seems to return to earth. “No, it was all – it was good.”

“Ricky scared you? If you want, I can kick that guy’s arse-“

“No, that’s – Ryan, it was perfect. This evening was so nice and I just – I don’t get why, why you’d wanna have that with me.” Wow, that sounded so defeated that Ryan can feel his face scrunch up in protest, but before he can open his mouth, Shane continues, “And I know that – what a date is and what’s supposed to happen after a date and - I mean you can fuck me, of course –“ _What the fuck –_ “Shane,” he interrupts the other man, “I don’t – I would never do anything you don’t want.”

“That’s not the point, Ryan. The – I think, I don’t know. You…uh, how can I say this - you can’t just… fuck your issues away, you know?”

Ryan just stares at Shane, completely lost. _Where the hell did any of this come from? Did he –Did Shane think he was just here to – to get laid? Had he said anything offensive without realising it?_ Shane’s eyes search his for an understanding he doesn’t find there, and he hurries to add, “I just mean – just some fucking isn’t gonna magically solve everything. I’m – I’m still so strange and you’re still so… breakable.”

Oh. _Oh_. This isn’t about sex at all. A demon thing. His first instinct is to apologise for coming on to Shane too enthusiastically, but he simultaneously realises this is still his simpleton mind boiling things down into… yeah, fucking. Maybe he’s been a bit too obsessed with that - it’s just, it seems like such an easy way to convey how much Shane actually means to him, because his brain and mouth surely can not. Words just aren’t his language.

Whatever Shane sees in his eyes as these successive thoughts cross Ryan’s head, it seems to encourage him enough to continue talking. Maybe encourage isn’t the appropriate expression for it, but it seems to fuel whatever momentum Shane had built up. “I mean, look at you,” he says, despite not looking at Ryan, “You – you’re scared out of your mind and yet you still put yourself out there and face all those demons and ghosts because, because you’re both a coward and the bravest person in the world. And you look like, like I don’t know, you should model beachwear and – and be in toothpaste commercials and you’re just so… _good_. And – and I’m not.” Ryan keeps caressing Shane’s arm, because his brain is too preoccupied with the sudden thought, the question - if Shane has taken a life before. It comes out of nowhere, there’s no hint at it in Shane’s words, no subtle clue – just everything he’s ever learned about demons suddenly coming back to him.

“…and then we have this perfect date and I fuck it up by making is all awkward.”

“Oh shut up,” Ryan snaps, and stills his hand on Shane’s shoulder. “You’re talking shit, and I won’t have that. Man, that evening was – amazing. You’re amazing.”

_Oh no, feelings._ His brain is still lagging, trying to process but failing spectacularly. This is not normal. He’s just a regular guy, really. Sure, his teeth are nice and he looks good, but somehow he cannot believe his appearance is actually something that Shane’s concerned with. My dad is a dentist, he almost says, but Shane needs to talk but doesn’t. He bites his teeth and stares at Ryan, as if to gauge his reaction, his eyes wide and his nostrils flaring. _You need to talk about this,_ Ryan thinks, and decides to take one for… well, for both of them and be the one to talk first.

“Shane, what… what’s this all about?” He didn’t mean to sound this defeated, and Shane curls a bit more in on himself under his hands. There’s a long pause, with Shane’s cautious eyes on him and silent breathing the only sound in the room, and Shane rubs at his face, and his neck, and then at his arm where he almost brushes his fingers over Ryan’s. His voice wavers.

“Sometimes I… I get so tired. I’m so fucking _exhausted_ sometimes.”

There’s some sort of disconnect between the words and the insane amount of pain that suddenly shines through Shane’s eyes at that, and Ryan can barely breathe. It makes his chest burn up with pain just to witness that look, and the realisation that he will never, never be able to relate to this is just… soul-crushing. This is not about the sort of tiredness sleep can fix.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Shane,” he mumbles, because there is nothing else he could say, and Shane closes his eyes with a shaky breath. He cannot really hide his face with Ryan hovering over him like that, so he just lies there and waits. This is not at all how Ryan had expected the evening to go.

_Okay, okay_ , Ryan tries to ground himself. This answer that’s bubbling up in him doesn’t actually solve anything, and it’s the sappy stuff he’d been dreading, but one of Shane’s eyes blinks open at him and it’s welling up with tears and he needs to somehow pull Shane back from wherever he’s going. Ryan presses a cautious kiss onto Shane’s hand and forces – really forces himself to look at the guy when he speaks. “Shane, I… man. I don’t know what to say. But the – you can’t be that bad if even I ain’t scared of you, can you? Because I - I _am_ such a coward. I mean you’ve always been there for me, and protected me from whatever, so I really don’t have any reason to be scared out there and man, you’re – don’t tell anyone I said that, but you’re really, really funny. And I love your weird antics and those tirades you go on and… man, I just love everything about you.”

Shane has gone completely silent, but his chest is heaving as if he’d run a mile. He doesn’t look convinced.

“Even the Hot Daga?” he asks, but his voice is watery, barely there. It’s supposed to be a light-hearted attempt at a joke, but with Shane almost breaking in front of him, it just doesn’t cut it. _There won’t be enough of you left to piece you back together eventually_ , floats through Ryan’s head, uncalled for.

“Even the Hot Daga,” Ryan mumbles as he leans in to kiss Shane again, on the mouth this time, and Shane’s skin is wet against his. _Fuck._

“Ssshh, Shane, what’s wrong?” he whispers, a bit panicky.

“I don’t know,” Shane croaks into his hands, “I’m sorry,” and Ryan pulls him into an embrace that is just on the light side of bruising.

“Don’t be. It’s fine, really. Just tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

“This is not about the Hot Daga.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Ryan, I – I’m sorry. It’s just – I’m trying so hard to be – to be normal and give you that, and I want to be normal, Ryan. I never asked to be like this, I never asked to be born or to be a fucking demon that scares people-“

“You don’t scare me-“

“And for the most part, I don’t even think about it, I, I can almost make myself believe that I’m not – a demon, not _wrong_. And, and that’s – that’s the worst part. I am – not normal, Ryan. And I’m, I’m not as strong as you think I am although I’m a lanky weirdo and you deserve someone who can make you happy – S-someone you can have a, a family with, and a normal life, and I’m just not any of that – I can’t give you any of that –“ The words just keep spilling from Shane’s mouth as if a dam had broken inside of him. Who knows for how long these thoughts have been brooding and festering there in his brain, Ryan thinks, but all he can do is hold Shane and pet his hair through it. It’s tearing the heart from his ribcage, really.

“Shane, listen to me,” he finally says when the flow of words has ebbed away, but before Shane can retreat into himself again. “I’ve been doing extensive revising lately. I’ve come to – to realise that maybe not all demons are evil and that I am, maybe…” _C’mon, Bergara, he’s had your dick in his mouth already and you’ve-_ “-not completely straight, and maybe I understand even less of the world than I thought. But… uhm. But I’ve known you’re not ‘normal’ ever since I first met you – no offense, _everyone_ gets that. The fans _all_ know – but no one gives a damn. You’re just so – different, yeah, but you’re extraordinary. And I love that. About you. I love how weird you are, and it’s – it’s so incredible how you can still be so… so kind with what the world, uh, with what you must’ve seen of the world, and with what the world must’ve thrown at you, and yeah, you’re amazing. And if you sport fucking horns I don’t give a damn. I don’t care at this point. I just want to – to be with you.” _And we can be a family, too, you and I, if that actually bothers you. You already feel a lot like home._

Shane doesn’t even move. He doesn’t breathe either. For a while, he just lies there and watches Ryan’s face heat up, and then he finally he starts to blink again and brings up a shaky hand to rub at his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I don’t know what came over me-“

_Your own demons,_ Ryan thinks, but he says “It’s fine, really. I can’t get to know you if we don’t talk, you know?”

“Didn’t think you’d want to,” Shane mumbles sheepishly, but there’s a faint smile creeping onto his exhausted features. Ryan grins, and gives him another kiss, a longer one that he hopes can say just how much he loves Shane when his brain cannot say it in words.

…

That night, when Shane thinks Ryan is asleep, he sniffles again, and Ryan pulls him in for a tighter hug and kisses the top of Shane’s head until the big guy falls asleep.

***

Shane is so out of it over the next days that Ryan starts to wonder whether he’d really caused some irreparable damage – or brought it so the surface. The first one or two weeks of each season are dedicated to planning and formalities and other trivialities, so it doesn’t happen on location or camera or something – but Shane stumbles around without seeing much, knocks things over, and frequently just stops whatever he’s doing and stares like he’s haunted. At nothing in particular, or at Ryan, but he doesn’t seem to realise Ryan is there in the first place. To be honest, he’s looking a bit shell-shocked.

Their first location is an abandoned amusement park, because things don’t get much more horrible than that.

***

“I want to sleep with you,” Shane rushes out, in the middle of a very public, very busy café with many customers and Ryan choking on a bite of bagel. Shane’s ears immediately turn red as Ryan coughs, trying to clear his airway.

“What?” he finally croaks, and the bagel is still there.

“I want to sleep with you, I really do,” Shane repeats, much more quietly. “I’m just a bit… I dunno. Haven’t done that in ages.”

“It doesn’t matter, buddy,” Ryan shrugs, because it really doesn’t. “And what’s the worst that could happen? You gonna sport some horns?”

“Yeah.”

Oh. So there were horns there, on Shane’s ‘final form’. “Black eyes?”

“Mhmm. Maybe. I don’t know, it’s different every time. Can’t really control it.”

_How can Shane be so shy about these matters when they’re alone, and now be chatting about sprouting demonic appendages in front of a dozen people – oh. Alone in a crowd of people and stuff._

“Don’t worry,” he finally says, coolly. “I don’t care. Ricky sure as hell doesn’t.” _Uh-oh, dangerous territory._ “I’ll take care of you.”

Shane blushes even deeper, but smiles down at his lunch as if he’d received a compliment. Maybe he had. And Ryan thinks to himself that, yes, Ryan be damned if he isn’t curious as hell.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! ✿
> 
> I apologise for my absence - As of this month, I am back at my job and I'm really grateful for that (very passionate about being able to afford food and rent and such). BUT that also means I have the workload of the last months to deal with now, so updates may slow down a bit... but I really cannot complain. I'm doing really well, and I've even found - personal aside - someone I'm incredibly fond of and who inspires me a lot and I'm just super happy. ✿◕ᴗ◕✿
> 
> I hope everyone of you is doing okay and you are safe? Take care of yourselves, everyone! And drink some water!! XOXO

Ricky is not with them when they have their first time, proper first time – it’s neither the place nor the time for him. With surprising determination on his face, Shane draws Ryan to his bedroom by his sleeve, and is so silent at that that Ryan cannot help but devour him. He almost rips the clothes off of Shane, marvelling at the perfect skin under them, at the soft hair and Shane’s arms and just _everything_ – he kisses Shane’s neck, too proud to admit that he cannot reach his face, and his clavicle, and his shoulders, and he’s just so hungry – he bites gently at the skin under him, which rewards him with a groan.

“Take that off,” he mutters between kisses, fumbling at Shane’s jeans. Shane complies, hastily, and Ryan gets rid of his own hoodie and pants that are suddenly way too hot. Damn, it is so hot in this oven of a room-

“Dude, did you temper with my thermostat? I'm dying,” he laughs, but Shane doesn’t smile back. Instead, he mutters something that sounds a lot like ‘Reminds me of home’ and hunches over just the tiniest bit, and Ryan is once again hit with just how little he knows this – this other side of Shane. He prays that he doesn’t look as freaked as he is.

“Illinois is-“ he begins, his voice way too high, “Are we talking about – about Illinois?“

For a moment, Shane looks as if he was only now noticing he was naked, and only now becoming ashamed of it – how ironically biblical, but he quickly bites out a “Hell, Ryan. Never been, but it’s what my kind is, uh, accustomed to, I guess?” The words sound sour and Shane’s face twists into something ugly when he says them, and Ryan only stares because he has no idea how to salvage this conversation. Shane looks at him quickly, his expression miserable, and looks away again.

Because there are no words he can think of, he decides to offer something else – a gesture of peace. Similar to how they’d still brought each other coffee after the astonishing revelation of feelings and - his boyfriend is a demon. Ryan turns to rummage through one of his drawers, busying his mind with this new quest instead of thinking. He really cannot be bothered with this right now. When he turns around and silently offers Shane a blanket, he is once again sole witness to the exceptionally rare sight of Shane speechless.

“A… a blanket,” Shane says, stating the obvious but looking beyond confused.

“If you’re – I mean it all makes sense now. Why you’re always layering on the clothes, and, and why you’re always cold, man, I – I just hadn’t thought about - You can take one of my hoodies if you want,” Ryan babbles, feeling his cheeks heat up. Shane has his own clothes still strewn around him he realises just as he speaks, but finally, a smile begins tugging on Shane’s lips.

“I thought the point of the whole exercise was to get me out of my clothes,” he states, very calmly, and Ryan blushes even more. “Is this how you usually seduce your, uhm, acquaintances?”

“Hey, fuck you.”

“Another important point.”

“Oh my god, Shane, you’re the worst,” Ryan laughs and receives an outright devilish smile in return. He steps closer to Shane until he can reach up to cup the other man’s face in his hands, and gets up on his tiptoes because pride be damned, he needs to kiss that smile. For the briefest of moments before he closes his eyes, the ones looking back at him are dark, very dark, and sparkle with something otherworldly. He pushes Shane backwards onto the bed. 

Shane is like water in his hands, and Ryan lets them roam over every inch of him that he can reach. Shane is lying there, breathing hard but a bit unsure of what to do with his arms apparently, so he ends up caressing Ryan’s biceps with a cautious look on his face.

“I’ve always really liked your arms,” he mumbles a bit sheepishly, and Ryan grins against Shane’s skin. “You could just… punch a ghost if it scared you. Nice hook to the chin, you know?”

“Wouldn’t my hand go straight through it?”

“Yes, but that’s ‘cause ghosts aren’t real.”

Ryan bites down on the obligatory ‘fuck you’ because that is exactly what is happening and from the sounds of it Shane’s already suffering enough - from how Shane reacts to his fingers on his skin, Ryan may as well have set him on fire.

“Tell me what you need, babe,” he groans, and thank god Shane is too distracted to react to the pet-name. At least he hasn’t called him daddy, again, that is… something. Shane’s hips buck up against Ryan when his fingers creep closer, and he pushes out a strangled ‘Just – just do whatever you want with me.’

Ryan’s fingers finally find Shane and the man moans under him, his hips twitching again. Ryan gives him a few curious strokes, mesmerised by the sight, and then shuffles around to position himself between Shane’s limbs – he should be more nervous about this, he thinks, staring at Shane’s dick in his hand. This is the first time he’s trying something like this, after all, but – but he’s gotten quite a few blowjobs himself. It doesn’t look too difficult. Shane lifts his head to look at him, almost anxious, and just stares. Finally, after what feels like ages, he nods a minute nod and Ryan’s tongue lashes out to lick at the head – he takes it in his mouth, carefully so, because he knows just how much teeth do hurt down there. It’s an odd sensation, having his mouth full like that – he takes in a bit more, sliding his mouth lower whilst feeling around it with his tongue – oh, he has hands – he wraps one around the rest of the thing that he cannot possibly swallow, and places the other on Shane’s quivering thigh. After a moment, he dares to look up.

Shane is staring at him, mouth half open. “Ryan,” he croaks, “that’s – ah, that feels – so good.”

Ryan cannot really answer, but he gleams back anyways. He pulls his head back, almost releasing Shane, and back down again. Feasible. What he lacks in experience he certainly makes up for in enthusiasm, and if Shane does mind, he gives no indication of it. Instead, his fingers find Ryan’s hair and stroke it, shakily, with the frequency of the litany of little _ahs_ and _ohs_ falling from his lips increasing the more rhythmic Ryan becomes. The sounds alone have him so hard in his boxers it's almost painful.

Shane’s close. Ryan can feel it in how much the muscles strain under his fingers, and how much hastier Shane’s gasps-

“Stop,” Shane gulps, pulling at Ryan’s hair. “Stopstopstop, please-”

Ryan lets go as his heart flutters in his chest like a caged bird. _Had he done something wrong? Had he hurt –_

“Can you-“ Shane makes one of those gestures that convey absolutely no meaning, but Ryan understands. “I, I want you to…” _Oh. Wow. Don’t panic, Ryan._

For a moment, Ryan just stills and drinks in the sight in front of him, Shane sprawled out with his eyes fixed on Ryan - looking at him as if he was the last person in the world. Ryan finally shoots him a smile, and caresses his thigh. “You got, uhm, lube? And protection?”

Shane lolls his head towards his nightstand, as if he had no single bone left in his body. Ryan scurries over to retrieve the bottle and a condom, and this – _this_ is apparently the moment where his brain decides to catch up to what he’s – they’re doing and drown itself in worries. _Damn it,_ he tells his brain with Shane’s eyes still on him, _not now._

“You need to tell me if it hurts, okay?” he says, opening the tube with shaking fingers that Shane cannot _not_ notice. He really hopes Shane’s honest about such matters, but he suspects the guy would let Ryan do anything to him and never complain. “Or if you don’t like something – or change your mind.” Shane nods, but Ryan won’t have it. “Promise me.”

“Yeah, uh… yeah. Promise.”

“Good.” Ryan presses a kiss onto Shane’s thigh, and Shane pulls the leg up so Ryan can rest his cheek on his knee. Ryan’s fingers find Shane again, still hard, and dark against his pale skin, and he cautiously tugs on it again. It rewards him with another low groan. His other hand is busy stroking Shane’s hip, and Shane makes that incredibly arousing noise again, and again. This isn’t fair. No being, human or not should look this marvellous whilst unravelling.

Shane almost hisses when Ryan’s coated fingers find his entrance, and his hands curl up in the bedsheets, but he bites down on his lower lip and says nothing. Ryan rubs his thigh with his free hand, in what he hopes is a reassuring manner.

“You okay?” he whispers – why is he whispering – and Shane nods ever so minutely. “Talk to me, babe. Please.”

“Babe?” Shane repeats with a crooked grin, but he barely has the breath to form the word. When Ryan circles over the tight ring of muscles, whatever he’d had on his lips dies in a quiet whine.

For a while that could be minutes or hours for all he cares, Ryan continues his ministrations. From the sounds of it what he's doing seems pleasurable enough, but Shane's face is uterly distracting. He’s looking like a tomato by now – a beautiful tomato. _A beautiful tomato. What the fuck is wrong with you, Ryan Bergara?_ But yes, the flush extends from his ears over his cheeks and reaches down to the middle of Shane’s heaving chest. It’s a mesmerising sight. And incredibly that he can get Shane into this state with just some fingers and a bit of devotion.

“Please,” Shane finally whimpers, and bucks his hips again. “Please, Ryan.”

The part of his brain that often camouflages as Ricky Goldsworth is tempted to torment Shane by asking ‘please what’ or something similar, but Ryan doesn’t have it in him. His finger slides in with little resistance, and yes, it feels a little odd – but the sound Shane makes cannot be put into words. Maybe it’s part of that demon language – whatever it is, Ryan needs to hear more of it. After a while, he adds another finger and carefully feels around. Shane’s thigh trembles next to his cheek, and he presses a quick kiss on it, which rewards him with a stupid grin in return. He must’ve done something very right, or very wrong, because suddenly Shane jerks under him, a surprised, breathless chuckle on his lips. Ryan cannot help the grin spreading over his own face as he rubs that spot again, and again, and watches Shane’s face distort.

“Ryan, please, just… just,” Shane breathes, and if he didn’t know any better Ryan might think he’s about to cry. “Just, fuck, please fuck me-“

That’s as much of an invitation as Ryan’s gonna get. He slides his fingers out carefully, and the condom onto himself, and positions himself between Shane’s outstretched limbs which are just too abnormally long and shivering slightly. He slides his hands over Shane’s stomach, and his hips and thighs and watches Shane’s eyes follow him. Finally, Shane looks at Ryan and nods.

A silent ‘My god,’ tumbles from Ryan’s lips as he presses in, as slow as he can, but it feels… unbelievably good. Shane is so tight around him, and the way he moans and rolls his head to the side, it’s all a bit too much, happening all at once. “God, wow.”

“Blasphemy.”

“Sorry,” Ryan says, although he does not feel particularly sorry. He leans in a bit further, and Shane winces but quickly follows it up with a smile. Ryan reaches out to cup Shane’s cheek – quite a logistical task, with how tall Shane is and – and he just stops and looks at Shane. God – gods - whatever deity the guy has to bow to. He is in love with Shane.

“How you doing, buddy?” he asks instead, and strokes his thumb over Shane’s cheekbone. The guy is practically burning up under him. One of Shane’s hands releases the bedsheets and wraps around Ryan’s wrist instead, and Shane smiles a smile that is too teary and warm and heartbreaking all at once. He looks so… lovely, Ryan thinks. That smile that could light up a whole room. It’s a sight he wants to keep forever, to remember forever, something so precious that Shane gave to him and only him –

“You don’t get t’call me _buddy_ with y’r dick inside ‘f me,” Shane rasps back, sounding almost pouty. “But ‘s – uh, ‘t’s amazing.” His hand around Ryan’s wrist tugs a bit. “C’mon? Please?”

Ryan pulls out a bit, but they keep eye contact – this is such an intimate moment, Ryan is almost too afraid to speak or breathe in fear of shattering that fragile sense of peace between them. Shane looks so vulnerable under him, with his eyes wide and his lips quivering and his fingers searching Ryan’s skin. The breath hitches in his throat as one of Ryan’s hands trails down and finds Shane again, still half-hard, and strokes him leisurely. He hopes he never forgets the look on Shane’s face right now.

“Oh,” Shane huffs when Ryan pushes in again. They settle into some sort of rhythm eventually, although Ryan feels a bit uncoordinated, and eventually he remembers that his hand is still wrapped around Shane and he can sync its movements with his thrusts. If he notices Ryan’s clumsiness, Shane does not complain. Instead, he starts lifting his hips to meet Ryan, and moans under him, and looks absolutely stunning. Eyes dazed, mouth open, a thin sheen of sweat and shaking thighs moving against Ryan’s –

“Shit, I – I’m close,” Ryan mumbles, and Shane frantically nods. “You too?”

“Yeah, almost – ah, god, Ryan. _Please_ -“

The blasphemy does not elude Ryan, but he doesn’t have it in him to make a remark – he speeds up the movements of his hand and starts to really pound into Shane, who groans back, the sounds of skin against skin turning arrhythmical – he’s getting lightheaded – finally, finally, Shane jolts under him, with a long moan that is so loud it actually sounds painful, and comes all over Ryan’s hand and stomach. The sound of it, and the look of sheer, unadulterated bliss on Shane’s face and knowing that Shane decided to share this with him and let him gawk at him like an idiot if he wanted, and the ache in his heart at that though, all of it completely overwhelms Ryan’s ability to form a coherent thought or even breathe – and just Shane, Shane takes right over the edge with him. Into the abyss or to hell, it doesn’t matter, because wherever Shane’s going, Ryan will follow.

He keeps hovering over Shane for a few shaky moments after, but his arms don’t want to carry him. It doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that Shane is lying under him, panting, and his eyes are black and there are, yes, fucking horns sprouting from his forehead. He looks positively freaked out, and he doesn’t make a noise except for the hasty gasps rattling his frame.

“Man,” Ryan mumbles, and brushes his lips over Shane’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

Shane just blinks, his nostrils flaring. The horns are – they are shrinking under his eyes, quite literally, until they disappear under the mass of curly hair. “But I’m seriously gonna pass out.”

“So good, huh?” Shane retorts, but there’s no fire in it. Ryan musters his remaining strength and pulls out of Shane, who whimpers in protest, and he pulls the condom off and hurries into the bathroom to dispose of it. A washrag. A mess. Once he finds it, he hurries back because he suspects Shane’s sinking into that abyss of self-doubt over something stupid by now – and from the look on Shane’s face, he is right.

When Ryan leans in, Shane irks his head away from him, so he busies himself with cleaning off the mess on their stomachs instead – at least a literal mess he can deal with. He finally discards the rag and lies down on the bed next to Shane, whose eyes are still black. Mustering him. Progress, Ryan hopes.

“How you doing, buddy?” Ryan finally mumbles, brushing the tips of his fingers over Shane’s cheek as gently as he can. “Talk to me, I – I can’t read your mind.”

The expression on Shane’s face is still unreadable. The black eyes aren’t helping with that, Ryan notes, but at the same time he is strangely proud that he gets to witness them in the first place. For a while, Shane doesn’t answer and only blinks, but Ryan decides he can have a moment to recuperate. From what little he can read off the guy’s face, whatever he’s expecting isn't good.

“Your -” Shane rasps, and coughs. “Your whole, uhm, seduction act really needs some work. The sweet-talk and such.”

Ryan gawks, and grins when he repeats _The sweet-talk?_ through his snickers. “You’re criticising my courtship? Seriously?”

“C’mon, the whole _it’s so hot in here we better-_ “

“Hey, I did not –“

“You literally did.” A cautious smile creeps back onto Shane’s face at that, at being an asshole of course, but it warms Ryan’s heart enough to shut up and let him have the last word for once. He’s too comfortable and warm and content to argue.

For a while, Shane seems to try to say something, he opens his mouth and closes it again, and finally, he mumbles a quiet “You’re not…” The voice that comes from his throat is much deeper than his usual one, it barely sounds like him. “Not at all freaked out by… this?” Another gesture to his forehead and his face, but Ryan only shrugs.

“Can’t see anything I’d be afraid of. Just Shane.”

“Character development.”

“Shut up, man. We just had a moment. And a – a pretty great time.”

“Yeah?” Shane smiles, and Ryan pulls him against himself and kisses his forehead, and his cheeks, and his nose, anything he can reach. Shane closes his eyes throughout the onslaught, and when they eventually open to look at Ryan, they’re back to their usual warm brown, albeit the whites are disconcertingly red.

“You’re – oh god, was it that bad? You’re not gonna cry after our first time, are you?”

His only answer is a quiet huff of air, an arm over his chest and a head pressed against the side of his neck.

After a while, when Shane’s almost dozed off, Ryan mumbles a quiet ‘For what it’s worth, I think you were amazing.’ It’s not quite what he wants to say, not quite those words that will be theirs and theirs alone. Shane grunts.

“Yeah, fuck you, too.”

“If you want?”

Shane chuckles, but falls asleep with it on his lips. Ryan still kisses him, again and again, because damn, Shane deserves this and so does Ryan, and he is in love with Shane Madej.


	34. Chapter 34

“Does it bother you that I’m so much taller than you?” Shane asks, on location, on camera, when they’re settling in for a night of peaceful/no sleep, both brushing their teeth. It’s almost domestic, if it weren’t for the abhorrent background soundtrack of infrequent creaks and noises – Ryan bites down on the toothbrush in his mouth and looks at the Shane in the bathroom mirror that is staring back at him.

“You’re not _that much_ taller than I am,” he protests, half-heartedly. Five feet ten, for god’s sake. “Does it bother you?”

Shane frowns beside him, and continues brushing his teeth as if it were a cognitively challenging task – it’s almost mesmerising to watch. He finally rinses his mouth and straightens himself, shrugging and crossing his arms with a small sigh. “Dunno. Kinda. I mean it’s, being tall is great and all but – but sometimes I just… wanna be small. I don’t know. Not take up so much space.”

“Can’t you just… uh, demon-shapeshift or take another body or something – if it bothers you?” Ryan tries to ask, but with the toothbrush in his mouth it comes out as a garbled mumble. Not that he’d want that, he likes everything about Shane. The big guy shrugs again, staring at his reflection.

“It’s - Why do you think I’m about as tall as your average tree? It’s not – Ryan, my parents are both like five feet tall.”

Ryan rinses his mouth, too, and Shane still stands next to him, arms still crossed in front of his chest. He’d sounded almost – _oh. This matters._ Ryan stands up and mirrors Shane’s position leaning back against the wall next to him, keeping his eyes ahead on the reflection of the guy. “It’s a – it’s a demon thing,” Shane continues, barely able to look anywhere. “A demonic soul in a human body makes it, uh, distort. Have you never noticed nothing about me looks right?”

It is uttered with a huff that is probably supposed to be a laugh but sounds too strangled to pass as one. Ryan commits the atrocious crime of turning his head to look at Shane, who in turn looks away.

“No,” Ryan finally says, brushing his fingers over Shane’s arm. “I think you - you’re fine just the way you are. And I, uh, I like what I see.” _Very much so._

Shane doesn’t have an answer for him, but a shaky smile that is answer enough.

***

This thing between them – whatever you want to call it, and yes, Ryan may have used the b-word (boyfriend, not bitch) one or two times and Shane has exploded into that wide smile that lights up the whole room – whatever it is, it is good. It’s slow, because they both need time to settle into it, but it is worth it. And time – time is something that means nothing to Ryan and everything to Shane. Ryan contemplates that sometimes, when they are silent, watching TV or Shane drowsing off with his head on Ryan’s lap and Ryan’s fingers threading through his hair – Shane’s hair is surprisingly smooth under his fingers, soft and fluffy, almost like a cloud. It should be the other way around, with how short a human life span must be to Shane. Ryan is a bit dense, sure, but he’s not completely unaware of the looks Shane sometimes gives him. What a cursed existence it must be to live for so long, only to be feared and shunned for what you are.

“Have you been in love before?” he asks one day, out of nowhere, and Shane looks over at him from where he’s cutting some onions – apparently, demons don’t have to cry for that, which is a bit of trivia Ryan doesn’t know what to do with. Shane halts the rhythmic motion of his hands, and just stares holes into the cutting board. Ryan is about to apologise, it’s not really his business after all, when Shane nods.

“Yeah, I’ve been… in love before. I’ve loved. Here and there.” How very evasive. _Of course he has_ , Ryan scolds himself, Shane’s lived through decades and centuries and many lifetimes – it’s bound to happen. But it’s also not something Shane wants to share, if the tension in his shoulders is anything to go by. The chopping continues.

“Sara,” Shane finally chokes out, but he does not elaborate. It’s about time to change the topic.

“Does that mean you’re in love now?” Ryan grins, stretching himself out on the couch. Shane blushes, cuts his finger, and curses.

***

With how much Ryan has contemplated how to say it, and when, and how he could get the guy to believe it, it is Shane who says it first. They’re on site, because where else would they be, and amongst few noises and fewer breaths, Shane turns around in the middle of a corridor so that Ryan almost runs into him. Ryan grins, a bit sheepishly, and Shane shoots one of those rare, insanely soft smiles back and pulls him in for a kiss. There’s nothing paranormal in this house – except for Shane – and there’s no way their kiss is not on camera, but Ryan doesn’t really mind. They can edit it out.

“We won’t get any footage if we snog each other on set,” Ryan mumbles against Shane’s cheek, but Shane only shrugs.

“We can rebrand. Twenty-five minutes of Ryan and Shane making out.”

“That’s a –“ Ryan interrupts himself by snorting, “I think some, some fans would actually be into that.”

“Fine with me. They deserve a little treat for putting up with us.”

Ryan smiles, and bites into Shane’s neck, who loudly says, ‘Ryan, not on camera. The fans-‘ It doesn’t matter. They edit for a living after all.

Suddenly, Shane’s hand cups Ryan’s cheek, and he pulls him a tad away from him to look him in the eyes. His own are crinkled up, and sparkle with glee, and excitement, and warmth – “I love you,” Shane says, and Ryan can only stare at those eyes and tear up, and say it back.


	35. Chapter 35

No.

No no no no no.

No. Ryan cannot face yet another demon – A demon that may not be friendly or fancy him, that is – he just can’t. For a while, he wonders about assembling a support squad for when he’ll go and confront Aleister. A. Whatever his real name may be – Ryan had even started searching for sigils in the grimoires Shane had given him – he could draw the guy’s sigil and rip him a new one - but encountered a pretty basic issue: He knows neither the guy’s name (Aleister is not his real name, of course not – and that last name is with 99% certainty a rip-off of that Amazon Prime series) nor what the guy looks like (that presumably changes with every body he possesses), and the only thing he knows for certain is that the guy’s an utter asshole. And that, in turn, seems to be an inherently demonic character trait. Great.

…Maybe he should just call him. After all, Emma has given him the guy’s contact information and it seems a lot more practical. 21st century and everything.

…

Because Ryan is a coward and a millennial who fears phone calls more than demons and spirits, he doesn’t end up calling. For an embarrassingly long time he busies himself with a black mirror he’d found amongst Shane’s belonging, determined to give scrying a try – maybe he’ll start contacting his colleagues like this, if it works? – This is bullshit. He is completely aware of it, and yet, here he is.

Of course, nothing happens. He has to literally face himself doing something so utterly pointless, which is its own kind of uncomfortable; the next time, he’ll try a crystal ball or tea leaves for sure.

…He remembers how Shane’s eyes crinkled up when he’d said, ‘I love you’. He dials.

***

“Why would you want to meet your boyfriend’s ex anyways?” Liz doesn’t even sound remotely convinced. “Ryan, this is a terrible idea.”

“He, uh, he still has something of Shane’s. Something important.” (And he may be the only person in LA who could elaborate on certain matters that mortals don’t understand, but Ryan does not say that. And he requires several punches. Ryan does not say that either.) “I just – I just want you to watch over me and if I don’t reappear after half an hour or so you dispose of my body. Tell my loved ones, you know?”

“Ryan-“

“He is not with the mob, I promise. Just – How about next time you and Emma and I go out, dinner’s on me?”

“Ryan, I’m not concerned about wasting my time – I mean I came here without knowing what I got myself into so. I just – there was probably a reason they broke up.”

“Please, Liz. I need to do this. And I think I only have the guts if I have a – a watcher.”

“A what?”

“Long story. It’s – a joke. Doesn’t matter. So, uh, you in?”

***

Aleister doesn’t look even close to how Ryan had pictured him, at all – but then again, he’s not sure what he’d expected. It’s the first thing that crosses his mind when he stands in front of an impressive palace of a building, with baroque facades and expensive colourful window art and everything, and the guy habituating in this place opens the door. Tall guy. _How dared he knock. How did Ryan, the most scared person in the world, actually summon the courage to knock. What is he supposed to do now -  
_

The demon doesn’t say anything at first, and just raises an eyebrow. Expressive eyebrow dances are probably a demon thing, too.

“Ryan Bergara,” the demon finally says. “Why, this is quite a surprise.”

“Yeah, uhm, hi.” _Who knew summoning a demon could be as simple as knocking on a fucking door. Did that also happen to girl scouts and random neighbours?_

“You know I can sense that holy water in your pocket.”

“I, uh, I can leave it outside-“

“Which is right where you’ll stay, too.”

Ryan cringes. He can barely move his jaw, or even his limbs – “Okay, fine. I can’t move much anyways-“ _Why the fuck did he just say that, why the fuck did he just admit weakness_ “I, uhm, no offence, I brought that because-“ _Wait, yes offence._

“If you plan to throw it at my face I’ll have to politely decline.”

“No! - I mean, no. Of course I’m mad but – but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Why are you here, Ryan Bergara?” The way Asshole draws out his name makes Ryan’s skin crawl. There must be some sort of sixth sense in him that is constantly screaming at him to run.

“I, uh, I need your help.”

Aleister’s eyes are very, very dark when they muster Ryan. They look like they’ve seen the world begin and will be there to watch it end, too – and there is something so unsettlingly angry in them, it’s terrifying. Finally, after too long a pause, the demon holds out his hand and Ryan – despite his best judgment, which isn’t worth much apparently – slowly places the holy water gun in it. For it, he receives another irritated look, a nod and a ‘Please do come in.’ Ryan would rather die. A last glance in Liz’ general direction, who has instructions only to call Shane if the skies open up and hell descends upon mankind, and otherwise call Ella. It’s a reassuring thought that someone will come looking for his remains.

Ryan is walked through a house that is as impressive as it is foreboding. It is a conglomerate of expensive, dark wood and marble and glasswork and strange artefacts and pieces of art that he’d love to examine more closely – but overall, it almost seems as if the place was aware of the dark presence lurking within it, and the air feels oppressive and too cold. Maybe that’s just his nerves playing tricks on him. These pieces were probably collected over many lifetimes, Ryan muses as he catches a glimpse of a skull that looks entirely too human – this would be the perfect location for an episode. A house inhabited by a demon. Confirmed. Buzzfeed solved. Now that he thinks about it, he’s broken his ‘one demon episode per season’ rule every single episode since Brent had tragically passed away. He wonders if Shane’s been to this place before.

Aleister finally guides him into a library that must’ve been built solely to intimidate anyone that entered it – he’s not come here to swoon, but it’s a damn expressive place. This is the kind of place where the antagonist of any series drinks whiskey from expensive tumblers, discusses politics and the state of the world with other villains and devises their next evil scheme. The book titles aren’t even decipherable.

“Are those – is this some kind of… demon script?” he asks, for a moment forgetting who he’s talking to. He receives a mildly annoyed look in return.

“It’s Farsi.”

“Oh.” _Get your shit together, Ryan._ His mind is too easily distracted by anything shiny, spooky or just strange in general. Probably part of the reason he likes Shane so much. _Shane. Ah, right._

“First of all, I am still very mad at you-“ he begins, just because he shouldn’t have. “About assuming all these things about me, and about my relationship with Shane – I, I mean you don’t even know me.” He doesn’t have anything to follow the ‘first of all’ up with, really.

“I know your kind.”

“Wha – How can you know _all_ of humankind? There are people out there who commit atrocities and then there are people who, you know, change the world with their ideas – who create, and who -“

“You all end up dying.”

 _Umph_. There is nothing Ryan can really respond to that, and the finality of it quickly takes the wind out of his sails. It is an overwhelming thought. He will die, eventually, and that simple fact is so incomprehensible to a mere human, so unbelievable. Ryan is not stupid – he consciously ignores the Persian books on the shelves staring down at him, judging him – he is not good at communicating, sure, but he can muster up a bit of selective intelligence if he has to. The greatest human creations are – how ironically, to think this in a house full of them – just testaments to man’s struggle with his own transience. The holy grail, tales of life and death and what lies beyond, religion, maybe? – and the grimoires on his bedside table, too. The desire to live on, in any form.

“That’s why I’m here,” he finally says, and he could backhand himself.

“An acute wish for death? You’ve certainly come to the right place.” _Are all demons assholes just by nature?_

“No, I mean – I am gonna die, one day. And Shane will still be here and so will you.”

Aleister gives him a look he cannot interpret, something between bewilderment and amusement. The man looks as if he was about to say something, but doesn’t.

“And I-I’ve read that part about – about you picking up the pieces and everything. You – We both care about him, clearly, so I’m asking… I’m asking you to please be, you know, not a dick to him then? Like I believe you write those things because you care but man, just – just don’t make him feel like he’s hard to love.” _Because he really is not._ “And… and you are like him. Can you, uh, help me understand what’s going on with him? Please? That’s – That’s why I’m here.”

Aleister is silent at that, but his eyes are very focussed on staring a hole into Ryan’s forehead. The silence drags on, with no regards of how uncomfortable Ryan is growing – until Aleister finally gets up and leaves for a moment, which Ryan uses to take a breath. His hands are shaking.

The demon returns with, yes, two tumblers that look old and expensive, just as the bottle of… probably whiskey. Ryan cannot tell, he’s more of a root beer guy. This is about to turn into either a Mafia movie or a cold-blooded killing.

“Do you know why there are so few demons around?”

The question surprises Ryan, because no, he hasn’t wondered that; he has neither noted nor mourned any particular scarcity of demons before – rather just assumed most were hiding away in the shadows, both literally and in people’s minds. He shakes his head.

“Of course you don’t. How could someone like you, who has existed for barely three decades and been conscious for about two of them-“ _First of all_ , Ryan’s mind supplies, _how dare you assume I’m conscious ever_ , “understand what it is like to see the centuries turn. To witness lifetimes begin and flourish and end around you. To watch people change like seasons, only to end up losing them – to love something that is bound to be taken from you?”

Ryan gulps. He simply cannot understand this, it’s just not in his nature – or any human’s nature at that. Maybe once, or maybe later – “Demons really are cursed creatures,” he repeats quietly, as much to Aleister as to himself. Shane had said that, a while ago, but it absolutely tears him apart now. The fact that Shane is a demon – with all that it entails, it seems almost like an abyss now, an abyss between them that Ryan cannot bridge no matter how hard he tries. He takes a casual sip of whiskey – casual alcoholism counts as coping, right? – and it’s incredibly bitter and he almost ends up belching in front of a demon ready to pounce. Demon-hunting’s going great.

“They are,” Aleister concedes. “They turned away from the light so they’re bound to live in the shadows. And this – there is an insurmountable rift between demons and the world and everyone in it, Ryan-“ Ryan’s whole body twitches, and for a brief second he _knows_ that the guy can read his thoughts, this hits just a bit too close- “And this thing Shane’s doing? – Suicide.”

There’s a hint of emotion there, thinly veiled agitation and pain in his voice, and Ryan silently watches Aleister’s fingers trace the rim of the glass in his hands and take a gulp.

“Suicide?” he repeats, only to keep the conversation going. Aleister sighs, very obviously running out of patience to waste on Ryan.

“Just try to fathom the pain of lifetimes, countless lifetimes, just accumulating in you and still throwing yourself into this… meddling with humans and the world. Loving people only to lose them. Most demons don’t do that, and they’re wise not to – it’s just asking for suffering. No offence to you.”

“None taken,” Ryan rasps. He feels beyond exhausted all of a sudden, all his strength having evaporated at the subject matter and its soul-crushing implications, and all he wants to do is burst into tears. Or alternatively, just scream. It’s all coming together in his head, but he doesn’t like the picture that crystallises from Aleister’s words. And less even, that Ryan knows they’re true. “Why does he do it, then? The whole… getting attached?”

Aleister shrugs and opens his mouth to say something, but he hesitates. For a while, he just continues to stare into Ryan’s soul and thinks. “Shane is… strange,” he finally says. “Even by demon standards. He just continues to put himself out there and gets involved and hurt again and again and I honestly cannot tell you why. If I knew, I would have certainly stopped him by now.” Another pause, another swig of whiskey. “Part of it is surely that there is… let’s call it a disconnect from his true nature, shall we? You might have figured that out yourself. With every new body he starts building these mirages of tiny lives completely apart from his demonic nature, from his _true_ nature, as if he didn’t know people would fear him if they knew who – what he really is. It’s utter madness. Maybe that’s your answer, maybe he’s simply insane.”

Ryan doesn’t believe that for a second, but he hurries to ask something he’s been wondering for a while now, “Has anyone else ever found out – I mean has anyone else around him discovered-“

“A few times.” Aleister says, looking vaguely pleased. “Didn’t go too well.” His eyes suddenly dart up to fixate on Ryan again, who explodes into anger – this is about as open a denunciation as he’s gonna get, and he has to actively refrain from barking something stupid back and bites down on his tongue instead. He’s here as a detective, primarily. And as a boyfriend.

Meanwhile, Aleister empties his glass and stares out of the window. There’s a well-kept but eerily lifeless garden behind the house that Ryan has had no mind to marvel at yet – this whole place in general seems bizarrely empty, devoid of life, although Aleister is sitting right in front of him.

“And it’s such a strain to keep up such a façade. I honestly cannot fathom why he’d think it was worth the pain, just for some humans. To me you are honestly like mice.”

 _Of mice and men_ , Ryan thinks. “You… you don’t hate us because we just don’t matter to you?”

“Right.”

Somehow, that is much worse than just straight-forward malevolence. Apathy. “I, uh, I always thought demons were naturally evil, not… tired of everyone’s shit.” There’s a hint of a smile on Aleister’s face, although it might as well be a trick of the light. “Is that why there are so few demons around? Because they chose not to be around people?”

“No. It’s because most eventually realise that eternal life is a curse instead of a blessing. That this is a punishment.”

Another long pause, in which Ryan tries to order his thoughts. It’s not going great. “I… Okay, I know I couldn’t possibly understand that amount of – of suffering. I’m not trying to act as if I can. It’s just… Shane’s so much stronger than you give him credit for – if he still puts his heart out there instead of just – giving up – hating humankind – I mean, most humans only need one lifetime for that – if, if he decides that’s what he wants to do, why can you not accept this?”

“It will end up breaking him.”

“Don’t you think he’s already-“ It is one of those inconvenient truths that only occur to Ryan when he is about to voice it, but he just cannot get his throat and his mouth to form the words. Projection. Extrapolation. It feels like he’s been punched in the face, but Aleister has not moved a muscle. _Maybe the guy is perpetually piecing himself back together._ He ends up asking - croaking, “What does he need?” instead.

Aleister stares. Ryan wishes he’d wear sunglasses or something, because those eyes are unbearable.

“…complacency,” Asshole, who is still an asshole but with some mitigating circumstances now, finally says.

“What?”

“Do you need a dictionary?”

“No, just-“ _This is not my native language_ , he almost responds, although it is. On paper. In actuality, words just never quite manage to express what he actually wants to say. “Please, I’m just trying to be what he needs.”

“Shane doesn’t need anyone.”

“Except you?”

Silence. From the looks of it, Ryan has just immeasurable insulted a demon – to burn a demon, from hell – but then again, there is a glaring contradiction in Aleister stalking Shane and then – Aleister shifts in his chair, and Ryan fucking _flinches_.

“Complacency?” he repeats, trying to appear brave. It’s not very effective, with his hands shaking like that. “Could you please… elaborate on that?”

“It denotes a feeling of satisfaction with-“

“I don’t need a definition! Can you, can you please stop being an asshole for just a minute – I came her honestly just asking for help-“

“It’s in our nature.” _Our._

“Well, Shane definitely isn’t such a dick.” _Whoa, Ryan, what are you doing? Spewing insults into a literal demon’s face – why had he given his holy water away -_

A vicious smile is completely distorting Aleister’s face by now. “Shane is different.”

“Yeah, he is. Fuck you. Why are you making this so difficult-“

Ryan’s phone suddenly goes off, impossibly loud in the silence between them – Ryan hastily fishes it out of his pockets and turns the noise down. There are about half a dozen messages from Liz, in various degrees of concern, and a missed call just now. And two messages from Shane.

Babe ♥: What do u think of fabada for dinner? Been getting kinda cold lately

Babe ♥: I’ll take ur silence as a yes

Liz: Hey

Liz: Heyyyyyy

Liz: Are you still alive

Liz: ?

Liz: Asking for a friend

Liz: Okay Ryan I’m starting to get worried

Liz: Ryan???

He quickly shoots her a ‘Everything’s fine. No mobsters. Go home, and greet Emma from me. Owe u 1’

Liz: Is this code

Liz: Because I swear if you go missing or smth

Ryan: Really, I’ll be fine

Liz: Okay. Suspicious. Call if you need anything

“Ryan, I need you to promise me something,” Aleister interrupts him, as if the thought only now occurred to him. The smile is gone. Ryan puts his phone away, but not before having turned on the GPS – just in case. He doesn’t want to become another case of unsolved.

“I won’t promise you shit.” That earns him a raised eyebrow, but Aleister continues anyways. Some part of him even looks remotely impressed and, honest to god, Ryan is really impressed with himself, too. Maybe his rage and his urge to defend Shane actually override his flight-or-fight response.

“Shane will – if this thing between you lasts, Shane will end up asking you something. And I need you to tell him no.”

“God, could you be any more vague, perhaps?” Ryan spits out, crossing his arms across his chest. “And I’ll give Shane whatever he’s asking for.” He is completely aware that he sounds like a petulant teenager, but at this moment, that is exactly what he is. Incredibly annoyed, and too high on anger to feel fear anymore. What a manipulative asshole.

“Maybe what Shane wants isn’t necessarily what Shane needs.”

“Maybe that is not your place to decide.”

Within a split second, Ryan’s entire body is frozen in fear – no, this is not the same thing that paralyses him on location or when interacting with people or walking through a dark alley – pure, unabashed terror. His hands that have curled into fists feel too real all of a sudden, the feeling of his clothes on his skin and – this is not – not him – “Stop that,” he forces out through grit teeth at the man in front of him, who smiles smugly. “You – demon fuck,” – oh, role credits – the feeling finally abides, and the icy cold leaving his body draws a groan from him with it.

“Shane will ask you something. And it really is in both our best interests for you to decline. There are very few deeds that truly are considered sins, up there, but what he’s about to do is one of them.”

“You – this, is this about sex?”

“What isn’t?” Aleister huffs, but shakes his head. “No, it’s about…” He contemplates for a moment, his finger tapping on the empty glass in his hand. “Transience. Demons are far from the only eternal entities out there. Perpetual forces are in everything, and everywhere – you really couldn’t imagine seeing the world through my eyes. Or Shane’s, for that. Perpetual forces are everywhere.” Shane had said that demons aren’t supposed to give intel away, Ryan recalls, but then again, he had already harboured suspicions the guy was just trying to spare him too much of a headache. There’s a migraine on its way, and it’s gonna be a big one.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Shall I just get him a ghost dog, problem solved? A – a ghost plant?” Pretty sure we have one that’s on its way to the plant afterlife already.”

Aleister looks vaguely surprised at that, and moves to fill Ryan’s glass with another generous pour of whiskey. “He gave you a plant?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the fact that this guy has hurt Shane – Ryan’s getting outright annoyed with that asshole in front of him. And he doesn’t know why, but he’s getting defensive about a plant. “What if he did? Is that yet another demon thing I cannot possibly understand-“

“It’s a Shane thing. Giving plants to people he likes. Odd fellow.”

“I don’t see any plants here.”

“No need to rub it in.”

Yet another pause that sees Ryan’s courage dissipate with every passing second. Asshole finally speaks up again, uncharacteristically silent; “Ryan, I…” Something crosses his face that Ryan cannot quite place. “I apologise for trying to sabotage your relationship. I misjudged you. But that thing he’s going to ask-“

“What fucking thing?”

“It’s happened before. And it completely broke him. He extinguished a human soul, Ryan. Purged it from existence. And that-“ he breaks off, eyes for once not meeting Ryan’s. “I’d just… rather not see Shane in pain again.” He pours himself some whiskey again.

Oh. That really puts out the fire that had supplied Ryan with both the courage and rage to engage in this almost-shoutout. And he’s so in over his head here, it seems almost unreal. _He extinguished a human soul_. That doesn’t sound like a lie, unlike most of the things that came out of this piece of shit’s mouth – Shane ended a human life? Is that it?

“Pain… pain happens,” he states eloquently after thinking for a while. “- it’s just bound to happen. You cannot remove yourself from the world completely and not care-“

“You can.”

Ryan smiles a bit sheepishly. This is not the conversation he wants to have, but outright asking – this fucker in front of him is still a manipulative asshole, and Ryan doesn’t want to allow him to put any more demons in his soul. There’s a pun in there, somewhere. “Yeah, you can – but it’s your decision. And it should be Shane’s, too. Please just… don’t be a dick to him, okay? It’s so incredible how he can still be so - this enthusiastic about the world and stuff when he’s been through… such shit. Whatever. I don’t want anything to squash that, neither you nor my own death.”

Aleister looks almost defeated at that, grabs his glass and saunters over to a nearby window. _What a drama queen_. For a while, Ryan is witness to someone contemplating and brooding over their whiskey.

“I can see why he likes you so much,” Aleister finally says, more to the glass of the window than to Ryan. Ryan, of course, blushes. “But I think I’ll have to side with Shane on that – you do get off on fear.”

Maybe being an utter ass is just a demon thing, too.


End file.
